“Only twelve pounds wages,” said Miss Tollicks with emphasis.
“And very reasonable,” said Septimus; “but—”
“You will find very few general servants willing to go for less than fourteen,” said Miss Tollicks.
“I suppose not,” said Septimus; “but at present—”
“Then you don’t think this young person would suit your requirements?” said Miss Tollicks.
“Decidedly not,” said Septimus eagerly, for he was getting so exceedingly confused, that had Miss Tollicks pressed her point, he would most probably have ended by hiring the damsel off-hand; for every glance directed for help at old Matt glanced off the impenetrable armour in which the old man had encased himself.
“Mary Donovan,” said the lady of the house with dignity, “it is five minutes past four; you need not wait any longer to-day.”
Mary Donovan rose at the instant, and made a bob to Miss Tollicks, and one each to Matt and Septimus—bobs that were a disgrace to her after the elaborate obeisances she had so lately seen made; and then she took her departure, played out by a couple of “tings,” Miss Tollicks smiling blandly, and courteously holding her head on one side as she stood waiting to know the object of her visitors’ call.
Miss Tollicks was a lady whom no one would have supposed to have been born a genius, from the utter absence of ennobling qualities in her face; but for all that she made-up showily, possessed a good figure, had two little corkscrew curls on either side of her face, a suspicion of thinness about her hair—parting, which on a small scale exhibited somewhat the appearance of certain stout ladies’ dresses in the back when they have been without assistance in the hooking department; for the said parting began correctly, and then gradually opened out, but only to contract again and finish evenly some distance farther back. By way of head-dress, Miss Tollicks wore a black-velvet blackbird, with handsome gold-bead eyes, the said ornithological head-dress being kept in its place by means of a fillet of black-velvet and gold twist. A very thick, plain-linked, jet chain was round her neck, a very glossy buckle at her waist, fastening the cincture of her very rusty black-silk dress, slightly rubbed at the plaits; so that altogether Miss Tollicks presented the aspect of a lady superior at the very least.
“We merely called,” said Septimus, after an awkward pause, during which he had been waiting for Matt to begin, “to—er—er—to—er—that is to ask if you could give us any information respecting a Mr Phillips, a surgeon, who once resided here.”