“It always reminds me of the Hamlet who was funny without being vulgar: South Kensington is Bayswater without being funny.”
“Peckham’s a nice neighbourhood,” said Mrs. Railing, trying to balance a piece of cake in her saucer. “You get such a nice class of people there.”
“So I should think,” replied Lady Sophia.
“We’ve got such a pretty little ’ouse near the Gladstone Road. Of course, we ’aven’t got electric light, but we’ve got a lovely bath-room. And Bertie takes a bath every morning.”
“Does he, indeed!” exclaimed the Canon.
“Yes, and ’e says he can’t do without it: if ’e doesn’t ’ave it, ’e’s uncomfortable all day. Things ’ave changed since I was a girl. Why, nobody thought of ’aving all these baths then. Now, only the other day I was talking to Mr. Smithers, the builder, an’ he said to me: ‘Lor, Mrs. Railing,’ says he, ‘people are getting that fussy, if you build ’em a house without a bath-room they won’t look at it.’ Why, even Louie takes a bath every Saturday night regular.”
“They say that cleanliness is next to godliness,” returned Canon Spratte, sententiously.
“There’s no denying that, but one ’as to be careful,” said Mrs. Railing. “I’ve known a lot of people who’ve took their death of cold all through ’aving a bath when they wasn’t feeling very well.”
Lord Spratte, giving Miss Railing a cup of tea, offered her the sugar.
“Thanks,” she said. “No sugar; I think it’s weak.”