“What money?” asked the boy. The question seemed to goad Mrs. Rastin to fury.
“Out you go, you little devil,” she cried furiously. She took him by the back of his neck.
“Mind my collar,” he shouted.
“Out of it,” she screamed. “I was goin’ to be good-natured enough to keep you whilst the bloomin’ money lasted, but now I’ve had enough of it.” She lugged him out, despite his kicks, to the landing. “Now then, out you go.”
Bobbie fell down the staircase to the bottom. The commotion had excited the house; doors were open.
“Come in ’ere,” said the Duchess kindly. She wore an old, old satin gown, her lean, rope-like throat uncovered. “You come and live long of us. I’ve of’en wanted a child of me own.”
CHAPTER III.
On the Duchess and Mr. Leigh, her husband, leaving Pimlico Walk somewhat hurriedly the next morning with two barrow-loads of furniture and Bobbie Lancaster, Pimlico Walk, led by Mrs. Rastin, did not hesitate to give them verbal testimonials as to character. The husband, Mrs. Rastin suggested, had robbed her of someone else’s hard-earned savings; the Duchess was condemned severely by those to whom she had in effusive moments given her confidence. The Duchess’s husband was a quiet, resigned-looking man, with a fringe of whiskers that met underneath his chin; his behaviour conveyed the impression that he only desired to be let alone in order that he might do good in a quiet, unobtrusive way. He seemed, in regard to conversation, curt; he never used superfluous words, and before he spoke he always drew in a whistling breath looking around cautiously, as one anxious above all things not to incriminate himself. He for his part took the attacks of the neighbours quite calmly, and when the Duchess, so indignant that she dropped a glass candlestick with lustres, essayed to reply, he begged her to hold her tongue and to come on.
“Least said,” remarked the Duchess’s husband, “soonest mended. Give us a pound with this barrer.”
“And I ’ope,” screamed Mrs. Rastin, “that the money’ll prove a curse to you if so be that you’re the party as took it. What’ll become of the poor kid don’t bear thinking of.”