He sat on pretty patiently, for him, about half an hour, and then took the liberty of replenishing the fire from a coal-box that stood there. Another quarter of an hour was passed much more impatiently, when Ketch began to grow uneasy and lose himself in all sorts of grave conjectures. Could she have arrived too late, and found the tripe all sold, and so had stopped out to supper herself somewhere? Such a thing as a run on the delicacy had occurred more than once, to Ketch’s certain knowledge, and tardy customers had been sent away disappointed, to wait in longing anticipations for the next tripe night. He went into a cold perspiration at the bare idea. And where was old Jenkins, all this time, that he had not come in? And where was Joe? A pretty thing to invite a gentleman out to an impromptu supper, and serve him in this way! What could they mean by it?
He groped his way round the corner of the shop to where lay the kitchen stairs, whose position he pretty well knew, and called. “Here, Sally, Betty—whatever your name is—ain’t there nobody at home?”
The girl heard, and came forth, the same candle in hand. “Who be you calling to, I’d like to know? My name’s Lidyar, if you please.”
“Where’s your missis?” responded Ketch, suffering the name to drop into abeyance. “Is she gone out for the tripe?”
“Gone out for what tripe?” asked the girl. “What be you talking of?”
“The tripe for supper,” said Ketch.
“There ain’t no tripe for supper,” replied she.
“There is tripe for supper,” persisted Ketch. “And me and old Jenkins are going to have some of it. There’s tripe and onions.”
The girl shook her head. “I dun know nothing about it. Missis is upstairs, fixing the mustard.”
Oh come! this gave a promise of something. Old Ketch thought mustard the greatest condiment that tripe could be accompanied by, in conjunction with onions. But she must have been a long time “fixing” the mustard; whatever that might mean. His spirits dropped again, and he grew rather exasperated. “Go up and ask your missis how long I be to wait?” he growled. “I was told to come here at seven for supper, and now it’s a’most eight.”