"Terms?"
"Five shillings a-week, Sir. A room worth six shillings, anywhere else. Like to see it, Sir? Mary—Mary, dear, just mind the shop awhile, will you?"
Mary came grumbling at being disturbed, whilst her father hastened upstairs before the stranger, and throwing the window open, showed him a very dusty room, not over and above well furnished.
"Capital room. Sir!" said Mr. Jones, winking shrewdly; "real Brussels carpet; portrait of Her Majesty above the mantel-piece; and that bed, Sir —just feel that bed, Sir," he added, giving it a vigorous poke, by way of proving its softness; "very cheerful look-out, too; the railroad just hard by—see all the trains passing."
Without much minding these advantages, the stranger cast a quick look round the room, then said in his curt way: "Take four shillings for it? Yes. Well then, I'll come to-night."
And without giving Mr. Jones time to reply, he walked downstairs, and walked out through the shop.
"Well, father, have you let the room?" asked Mary, when her father came down, still bewildered by the young man's strange and abrupt manner.
"Well, child," he replied, "I suppose I may say I have, for the young man is coming to-night."
"What's his name?" promptly asked Mary.
"I'm blest if I know; he never told me, nor gave me time to ask."