“Steeks!” cried the woman, holding up her hands as if in amazement. “Why—how could I ever have misunderstood you so? But it’s no matter—I can just as well get steeks as chops; and one don’t take much longer cooking than another.”
“Then, am I to understand that you have as yet got neither chops nor steaks?” asked Mr. Scales, subduing his anger as much as possible.
“Lor, sir! how could I go to the butcher’s when there’s three of my masters is inwalids and dines in their own rooms to-day? But I’ll be off at once—and you shall have dinner in a jiffey, I can promise you!”
Thus speaking, the woman walked lazily out of the room; and when the door was closed behind her, Mr. Scales, turning to the captain, said; “Now you perceive how we Poor Brothers are waited upon by these nurses. You heard me give her specific orders to have a steak and potatoes ready for us at two. She comes in at three, and has totally forgotten all about the dinner—for that is the English of it. And yet I dare not complain against her: I dare not even speak harshly to the woman’s face. But should you not imagine that, after her neglectful conduct, she would make all possible haste to get the meal ready? No such thing! Look there,” continued Mr. Scales, motioning Captain O’Blunderbuss to the window: “she has fallen in with another nurse, and they are stopping to have a gossip. Now they are going out together; and before we shall see Mrs. Pitkin again, she will have paid a tolerably long visit with her companion to the bar of the Fox and Anchor.”
“Be Jasus! and shall I be afther her, my dear frind?” demanded Captain O’Blunderbuss, rushing towards the door.
“It is useless,” said Mr. Scales, holding him back: “we must have patience. But do you see that old man, standing apart from the rest——”
“And laning on a stick?” cried the captain.
“The same,” returned the good-natured and communicative Brother. “Observe how pensive—how melancholy he seems! That is Brother Johnson—late Alderman and once Lord Mayor of London.”
“Be Jasus! and I ricollict!” exclaimed the captain: “’tis the hero of the Romford Bank affair.”
“Precisely so,” responded Mr. Scales. “And now do you perceive that short, stout, elderly gentleman, leaning on the arm of a friend from outside——”