“Here, I say, come, Polly, I know we should have to begin saving,” said Revitts, in tones of remonstrance; “but don’t begin to-night. Stick a little more butter on that there bread.”
Mary complied, the meal went on, and I left them at last to talk the matter over, thoroughly upset by my proposals.
They opposed them for some days to come; but when, at last, I received a kind letter from Miss Carr, bidding me tell Mary how glad she was to hear of her plans, and that they were to be sure and include a comfortable bed and sitting-room for me, the day was carried, especially as the letter contained a cheque for 250 pounds; though they would not take all this, the steady, hoarding couple being able to produce between them enough to pay in full for the lease, which was duly assigned and placed in Revitts’ hands by Tom Girtley, who was progressing fast with the firm of solicitors to whom he had been articled.
The first intimation that Hallett received of the change was from Revitts himself, who called one day on his way home to announce with suppressed glee that he was the new landlord, and to ask if there was anything that Mr Hallett would like done.
Hallett stared in astonishment, and then turned sharply to me—
“This is your doing, Antony,” he said.
I pleaded guilty.
“Well, what could be better?” I said; “I’m going to have two rooms, and Mary will be always at hand to attend upon us, and you will not have to turn out.”
“But the money?” he said, looking at me searchingly.
“Revitts and his wife have been saving people,” I replied, “and they had their savings to invest. I don’t think they could have done better.”