'Ah! I must settle that. I tell you what, Mrs. Turpin. Let it stand over for another month, and we'll square things up at Christmas. Will that suit you?'
And, by way of encouragement, he paid his week's account on the spot, without a penny of deduction. Mrs. Turpin left the room in greater embarrassment than ever.
Saturday came. At breakfast Miss Rodney sent for the landlady, who made a timid appearance just within the room.
'Good morning, Mrs. Turpin. What news have you for me? You know what I mean?'
The landlady took a step forward, and began babbling excuses, explanations, entreaties. She was coldly and decisively interrupted.
'Thank you, Mrs. Turpin, that will do. A week to-day I leave.'
With a sound which was half a sob and half grunt Mrs. Turpin bounced from the room. It was now inevitable that she should report the state of things to her husband, and that evening half an hour's circumlocution brought her to the point. Which of the two lodgers should go? The carpenter paused, pipe in mouth, before him a geometrical figure over which he had puzzled for a day or two, and about which, if he could find courage, he wished to consult the High School mistress. He reflected for five minutes, and uttered an unhesitating decision. Mr. Rawcliffe must go. Naturally, his wife broke into indignant clamour, and the debate lasted for an hour or two; but Turpin could be firm when he liked, and he had solid reasons for preferring to keep Miss Rodney in the house. At four o'clock Mrs. Turpin crept softly to the sitting-room where her offended lodger was quietly reading.
'I wanted just to say, miss, that I'm willing to give Mr. Rawcliffe notice next Wednesday.'
'Thank you, Mrs. Turpin,' was the cold reply. 'I have already taken other rooms.'
The landlady gasped, and for a moment could say nothing. Then she besought Miss Rodney to change her mind. Mr. Rawcliffe should leave, indeed he should, on Wednesday week. But Miss Rodney had only one reply; she had found other rooms that suited her, and she requested to be left in peace.