“Come in,” said Tom.
The old woman stepped into the hall.
“Come right in here,” said Tom, opening the door of the parlor.
The old beggar, not accustomed to being received with so much attention, paused doubtfully.
“Come in, if you’re comin’,” said Tom, impatiently. “The lady told me to put everybody in here.”
The old woman followed, and took a seat on the edge of a sofa, placing her basket on the carpet. Before Tom had a chance to acquaint her mistress with the fact that a visitor awaited her, the bell rang again. This time Tom found herself confronted by a fashionably dressed and imposing-looking lady.
“I wish to see Mrs. Merton,” she said.
“All right!” said Tom. “Just you come in, and I’ll call her.”
The visitor entered, and was ushered also into the parlor. Leaving her to find a seat for herself, Tom disappeared in pursuit of the landlady.
Mrs. Courtenay did not at first observe the other occupant of the room. When her eyes rested on the old crone sitting on the sofa, with her basket, which was partly stored with cold victuals, resting on the carpet, she started in mingled astonishment and disgust. Her aristocratic nostrils curved, and, taking a delicate handkerchief, she tried to shut out the unsavory presence. The old woman saw the action, and fidgeted nervously, feeling that she ought not to be there. While the two guests were in this uncomfortable state of feeling, Mrs. Merton, quite unsuspicious of anything wrong, opened the door.