The day of the opening of the Grand Exhibition was fast drawing near; and the rumour had already spread over the country that the Queen intended to open the “Great Glass Hive” in state. Already did the streets swarm with straw-colour-haired Germans, and chicory-complexioned Egyptians—already was Regent Street crammed with beards, full pantaloons, and felt hats—already was the terminus of the Dover line daily disgorging some hundreds of Parisians habited in quaint cut cloaks, with hoods like huge jelly-bags dangling at their backs—already were the thoroughfares at the West End crowded with holiday-looking folk, and streams of gaily-dressed idlers seemed to be pouring in the direction of some fair in the outskirts—hairs seemed to have sprung up on the lips and chin of every other passerby in a night, like mustard and cress—the huge waggons, piled high as the house-tops with large wooden cases, each indorsed in bold letters,
FOR THE GREAT EXHIBITION OF ALL NATIONS,
had ceased to appear in the streets, and all seemed to be preparing for the great fair—the world’s holiday.
The Sandboys held a family council, the result of which was, that it was unanimously agreed it would be advisable, under the circumstances, for them to retire some short distance from the metropolis; and accordingly expeditions were sent out provisioned for the day, in search of the suburban regions.
After considerable difficulty, a bill was discovered pasted in a cheesemonger’s window, announcing that
“ANY NUMBER OF LADIES OR GENTLEMEN MAY BE ACCOMMODATED WITH APARTMENTS FOR A LIMITED PERIOD, IN A HEALTHY SITUATION, WITHIN A SIXPENNY RIDE OF THE GREAT EXHIBITION.
ENQUIRE WITHIN.”
This was too good news to let slip. Accordingly, Mrs. Sandboys no sooner received the information from her son Jobby, than she sallied forth, intent on ascertaining further particulars respecting the suburban domicile. On her return, she informed Mr. Sandboys that she thought it would be the “very thing” for them. The lodging was close to Wimbledon Common, at an establishment for young ladies, where the Easter vacation had been extended to a month, in honour of the opening of the Great Exhibition. Miss Wewitz herself was at present staying, on a visit, with one of her pupils in the metropolis; and Mrs. Wewitz had very properly thought it a pity to allow so large a house, making up, as it did, upwards of sixty beds, to remain unoccupied, just at a time when so many strangers were wanting a place to put their head in.
The next day, Mrs. Sandboys made an excursion to Wimbledon, and came back to Town delighted with the “ladies’ establishment.” Everything was so scrupulously clean,—the bed-furniture and the boards were as white as the Sour Milk Gill opposite their window at Buttermere; and the whole place was so airy and beautifully ventilated, that she believed Jobby might have flown his kite in the principal bed-room. Then the terms were so moderate, and the lady so obliging—she really thought she was one of the nicest old bodies she had seen for many a long day;—altogether, she was quite in love with the place, and everything and everybody about it.
She had arranged, she said, to go in the very next day; for, really, that spiteful old thing of a Mrs. Fokesell did make the house so uncomfortable, that the sooner they got out of her power the better.