We now had two months’ repose, and I was in hopes that things would go on more comfortably; but one day I overheard a conversation between my wife and daughters, as I passed by the door of the room, which I must candidly acknowledge gave me satisfaction.
“It’s really very awkward, mamma—one don’t know where to put anything: there’s not a cupboard or stow-hole in the whole house—not even a store-room.”
“Well, it is so, my dear; I wonder we did not observe it when we looked over it. What a nice set of cupboards we had at Brompton Hall.”
“Oh! yes—I wish we had them here, mamma. Couldn’t we have some built?”
“I don’t like to speak to your papa about it, my dear; he has already been put to such expense, what with the ceiling and the drains.”
“Then don’t, mamma; papa is really very good-natured.”
The equinoxes now came on, and we had several gales of wind, with heavy rain—the slates blew off and rattled up and down all night, while the wind howled round the corner of the square. The next morning complaints from all the attic residents; one’s bed was wetted quite through with the water dropping through the ceiling—another had been obliged to put a basin on the floor to catch the leak—all declared that the roof was like a sieve. Sent again for Mr Smithers, and made a complaint.
“This time, Mr Smithers,” said I, with the lease in my hand, “I believe you will acknowledge these are landlord’s repairs.”
“Certainly, sir, certainly,” exclaimed Mr Smithers; “I shall desire one of my men to look to it immediately; but the fact is, with such heavy gales, the slates must be expected to move a little. Duchesses and countesses are very light, and the wind gets underneath them.”
“Duchesses and countesses very light!” exclaimed my wife; “what do you mean?”