"Don't you remember me, Jenny?" he said.
At the sound of his voice Jenny's face assumed a look of bewilderment; this was followed by a smile of recognition.
"Well, I never! Mr. Steevison! Is it you, sir? Ye'r so changed I wouldn't 'a knowed ye, an' when ye spoke ye might 'a knocked me down with a feather."
"Can I have lodgings here again, Jenny?"
"Certingly ye can, sir. An' ye've come in the nick o' time, too. We buried the barman a week come Wednesday and 'is room 'as been just cleaned out. Come in, Mr. Steevison!"
"Hush, Jenny! That is not my name now."
"Isn't it really?" said Jenny, with a puzzled look, and then, as by sudden enlightenment, "Well, I'm married myself and I've changed my name, too. I'm Mrs. Cobb now, an' I've took over the 'ouse since the missus 'as been down with the stroke, an' my 'usband's asleep in the cellar."
They had stepped into the lobby by this time and putting down the pail Jenny cried over the banisters of the basement stairs:
"Jim! Jim Cobb, you bone-lazy thing, come up an' see an old friend."
"Don't disturb him now! Another time! I'm tired."