Miss Cattledon wished to buy an easy-chair that would be comfortable for an aged invalid: her sick aunt at Chelmsford. But, as Miss Cattledon’s purse was not as large as her merits, she meant to get a second-hand chair: which are often just as good as new. Dr. Galliard, who knew all about invalid-chairs and everything else, advised her to go to a certain shop in Oxford Street, where they sold most kinds of furniture, old and new. So we agreed to go this same morning. Cattledon, however, would not miss the morning service; trust her for that.
“It might do you no harm to attend for once, Johnny Ludlow.”
Thus admonished, I went over with her, and reaped the benefit of the young deacon’s ministry. Mr. Lake did not make his appearance at all: quite an unusual omission. I don’t think it pleased Cattledon.
“We had better start at once, Johnny Ludlow,” she said to me as we came out; and her tone might have turned the very sweetest of cream to curds and whey. “Look at those clouds! I believe it is going to rain.”
So we made our way to an omnibus, then on the point of starting, got in, and were set down at the shop in Oxford Street. Cattledon described what she wanted; and the young man invited us to walk upstairs.
Dodging our way dexterously through the things that crowded the shop, and up the narrow staircase, we reached a room that seemed, at first sight, big enough to hold half the furniture in London.
“This way, ma’am,” said the young man who had marshalled us up. “Invalid-chairs,” he called out, turning us over to another young man, who came forward—and shot downstairs again himself.
Cattledon picked her way in and out amidst the things, I following. Half-way down the room she stopped to admire a tall, inlaid cabinet, that looked very beautiful.
“I never come to these places without longing to be rich,” she whispered to me with a sigh, as she walked on. “One of the pleasantest interludes in life, Johnny Ludlow, must be to have a good house to furnish and plenty of money to—— Dear me!”
The extreme surprise of the exclamation following the break off, caused me to look round. We were passing a side opening, or wing of the room; a wing that seemed to be filled with bedsteads and bedding. Critically examining one of the largest of these identical bedsteads stood the Reverend William Lake and Emma Topcroft.