A FIGHT.
The cab stopped, and Dolly's heart gave a great thump against her ribs. What was she afraid of?
Mrs. Jersey said she would wait in the cab, and Dolly applied herself to the door-knocker. A servant came, a stupid one seemingly.
"Is Mr. Copley at home?"
"I dunno."
"Will you find out, please?"
"Jemima, who's that?" called a voice of authority from behind the scenes.
"Somebody arter the gentleman, ma'am. I dunno, is he in his room?"
The owner of the voice came forward; a portly, respectable landlady. She surveyed Dolly, glanced at the cab, became very civil, invited Dolly in, and sent the maid upstairs to make inquiries, declaring she did not know herself whether the gentleman were out or in. Dolly would not sit down. The girl brought down word that Mr. Copley was not out of his bedroom yet.
"I went in the parlour, ma'am, and knocked, ma'am; and I might as well ha' axed my broom, ma'am."