‘The gentleman who has the best one will give it up to-morrow, and then you can change into it,’ she added, as Mr. Heddegan hesitated about taking the adjoining and less commanding one.
‘We shall be gone to-morrow, and shan’t want it,’ he said.
Wishing not to lose customers, the landlady earnestly continued that since he was bent on having the best room, perhaps the other gentleman would not object to move at once into the one they despised, since, though nothing could be seen from the window, the room was equally large.
‘Well, if he doesn’t care for a view,’ said Mr. Heddegan, with the air of a highly artistic man who did.
‘O no—I am sure he doesn’t,’ she said. ‘I can promise that you shall have the room you want. If you would not object to go for a walk for half an hour, I could have it ready, and your things in it, and a nice tea laid in the bow-window by the time you come back?’
This proposal was deemed satisfactory by the fussy old tradesman, and they went out. Baptista nervously conducted him in an opposite direction to her walk of the former day in other company, showing on her wan face, had he observed it, how much she was beginning to regret her sacrificial step for mending matters that morning.
She took advantage of a moment when her husband’s back was turned to inquire casually in a shop if anything had been heard of the gentleman who was sucked down in the eddy while bathing.
The shopman said, ‘Yes, his body has been washed ashore,’ and had just handed Baptista a newspaper on which she discerned the heading, ‘A Schoolmaster drowned while bathing,’ when her husband turned to join her. She might have pursued the subject without raising suspicion; but it was more than flesh and blood could do, and completing a small purchase almost ran out of the shop.
‘What is your terrible hurry, mee deer?’ said Heddegan, hastening after.
‘I don’t know—I don’t want to stay in shops,’ she gasped.