“The last being full of holes he made when smoking,” said Mrs Fiddison.
“Then that’s settled,” said Richard. “Mrs—Mrs—”
“Jenkles, sir,” said the cabman’s wife, smiling.
“Mrs Jenkles, I’m much obliged to you for your trouble,” he said.
“And so am I,” said Mrs Fiddison, removing a tear once more with a scrap of crape. “My dear,” she continued, fixing a band to the cap, and holding it out—“isn’t that sweet!”
Mrs Jenkles nodded.
“I think the gentleman wants the rooms at once,” she said, glancing at Richard.
“Yes, that I do,” he replied. “I’ll fetch my portmanteau over directly.”
“Oh, dear!” ejaculated Mrs Fiddison—“so soon.”
And with some show of haste, she took a widow’s cap off a painted plaster Milton on the chimneypiece, another from Shakespeare, and revealed, by the removal of a third, the celebrated Highland laddie, in blue and red porcelain, taking leave of a green Highland lass, with a china sheep sticking to one of her unstockinged legs.