“She has been a little frightened today,” said Mrs Lane; “the people downstairs—”
“Oh, don’t you mind them,” said Mrs Jenkles. “They don’t like losing good lodgers, now it comes to the point, with all their grumbling. Have you paid your bit of rent?”
“Yes,” said Mrs Lane; and she glanced anxiously at her child, whose alarm seemed to increase.
“I see,” said Mrs Jenkles, in her most business-like way. “Now, look here, the thing is to get it over quickly. Have you got everything there?” and she pointed to a trunk and carpet-bag.
“Yes, everything,” said Mrs Lane.
“Then I’ll call up Sam to take them down to the cab.”
“No, no—stop!” exclaimed Netta. “Oh! mamma, had we not better stop? That man—what he said this morning!”
“There, there, my pretty,” said Mrs Jenkles, “don’t you be alarmed. You leave it to me.”
Then going to the window, she signalled to Sam, who was busy tying knots in his shabby whipthong.
As Mrs Jenkles turned from the window, the door was thrown open, and Mrs Sturt, looking very aggressive, entered the room, closely followed by her lord, smoking his black pipe of strong, rank tobacco.