“No, sir; and I don’t think you’re likely to. Persons as can’t get served at the other tooth-drawers are too sensible to walk all this way to get their jaws broke.”
“Are they very poor, do you think?”
“Why, sir, I suppose he must pay his rent somehow, but I don’t know as he does anything more. I’m told that they owe money all over the town, but the tradespeople make no fuss, because, as Mr. Jairing the butcher says to me, ‘It’s all very fine, Mrs. Parrot,’ he says, ‘talkin’ of hexecutions, but what’s the use o’ going to the expense of a distress when there’s nothing to seize?’ There’s a deal in that, sir.”
“God help them!” muttered Holdsworth to himself. Then looking up he said, “Do you think Mrs. Conway would let her little girl come and have tea with me this afternoon?”
“I should think she would, sir, and feel honoured by the askin’.”
“I have not seen the child to-day.”
“No, sir! Mrs. Conway don’t often come out. She kapes a bit of a wench as does her arrands, and I’ve told the slut times out o’ mind to put her bonnet on, an’ not go flyin’ down the road as though a orficer was arter her, disgracin’ of our neighbourhood, and frightening away any respectable person as might be comin’ wi’ a bad tooth. I don’t think of him, sir. If I could put a sixpence in his way I would, for the sake of his wife an’ the little one.”
“How shall I invite little Nelly if I do not see her?”
“I’ll run across, if you like, when I’ve got your dinner ready, and ask Mrs. Conway if she’ll let the child come. Perhaps you’ll just watch, sir, and tell me when the husband leaves the house. I don’t want to meet him if I can help it.”
An hour elapsed before Holdsworth saw Mr. Conway pass on his way to the High Street, on which he rang the bell and informed Mrs. Parrot that she might now call on Mrs. Conway in safety.