“Oh, Miss, ’tis brave an’ sorry I be. I told her this morning as how you wouldn’t want to be taken up, but she would come. There she be now ringin’ and ringin’ her bell. Always in a fanteague about somethin’, she be.”
“Well, go and see what she wants; all this can wait, for we’re going out.”
Hatless the two friends ran downstairs and out, in the fading light, to the sea.
From the very way in which the bell was ringing Mrs. Tregennis knew that no pleasant moments awaited her in the downstairs sitting-room.
First of all there was a complaint about supper. It had been ordered for a quarter past seven; it was now ten minutes past seven, and the cloth was not even laid. “You must remember that I am most particular about punctuality, Mrs. Tregennis, nothing displeases me more than to have meals late. I hope that because two strangers have come here for a few weeks you will not neglect me and my child.”
Mrs. Tregennis stood, silent, and outwardly patient. “Do you know at all who they are?” continued her exasperating lodger. “The taller one said they had come down from London to avoid the rush of the s——. Then she stopped. What could there be beginning with ‘s’ that they should wish to escape?”
“Supper begins with ‘s,’ and it’ll be fine an’ late ma’am, if I don’t go and see about it.” And Mrs. Tregennis escaped from the room.
When she returned the naval officer’s wife spoke with excitement. “I’ve found out,” she cried. “They’re shop girls!” and paused, to give dramatic emphasis to her words.
As Mrs. Tregennis appeared quite unmoved she continued. “To escape from the rush of the s——! Of course there must be sales on in the London shops now, and they’ve managed to save up money enough to come down here to rest until the sales are over, then they will go back again to work. You had better see that they pay beforehand for all they have, or you may find yourself in Queer Street when they go away.”