|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 7
And then she turned and led the way up the steep, narrow staircase.
At the top of the first flight of stairs was what Mrs. Bunting, to
herself, called the drawing-room floor. It consisted of a
sitting-room in front, and a bedroom behind. She opened the door
of the sitting-room and quickly lit the chandelier.
This front room was pleasant enough, though perhaps a little
over-encumbered with furniture. Covering the floor was a green
carpet simulating moss; four chairs were placed round the table
which occupied the exact middle of the apartment, and in the
corner, opposite the door giving on to the landing, was a roomy,
old-fashioned chiffonnier.
On the dark-green walls hung a series of eight engravings, portraits
of early Victorian belles, clad in lace and tarletan ball dresses,
clipped from an old Book of Beauty. Mrs. Bunting was very fond of
these pictures; she thought they gave the drawing-room a note of
elegance and refinement.
As she hurriedly turned up the gas she was glad, glad indeed, that
she had summoned up sufficient energy, two days ago, to give the
room a thorough turn-out.
It had remained for a long time in the state in which it had been
left by its last dishonest, dirty occupants when they had been
scared into going away by Bunting's rough threats of the police.
But now it was in apple-pie order, with one paramount exception,
of which Mrs. Bunting was painfully aware. There were no white
curtains to the windows, but that omission could soon be remedied
if this gentleman really took the lodgings.
But what was this--? The stranger was looking round him rather
dubiously. "This is rather--rather too grand for me," he said at
last "I should like to see your other rooms, Mrs. er--"
"--Bunting," she said softly. "Bunting, sir."
And as she spoke the dark, heavy load of care again came down and
settled on her sad, burdened heart. Perhaps she had been mistaken,
after all--or rather, she had not been mistaken in one sense, but
perhaps this gentleman was a poor gentleman--too poor, that is, to
afford the rent of more than one room, say eight or ten shillings
a week; eight or ten shillings a week would be very little use to
her and Bunting, though better than nothing at all.
"Will you just look at the bedroom, sir?"
"No," he said, "no. I think I should like to see what you have
farther up the house, Mrs.--," and then, as if making a prodigious
mental effort, he brought out her name, "Bunting," with a kind of
gasp.
The two top rooms were, of course, immediately above the
drawing-room floor. But they looked poor and mean, owing to the fact
that they were bare of any kind of ornament. Very little trouble had
been taken over their arrangement; in fact, they had been left in much
the same condition as that in which the Buntings had found them.
For the matter of that, it is difficult to make a nice, genteel
sitting-room out of an apartment of which the principal features
are a sink and a big gas stove. The gas stove, of an obsolete
pattern, was fed by a tiresome, shilling-in-the-slot arrangement.
It had been the property of the people from whom the Buntings had
taken over the lease of the house, who, knowing it to be of no
monetary value, had thrown it in among the humble fittings they
had left behind.
What furniture there was in the room was substantial and clean, as
everything belonging to Mrs. Bunting was bound to be, but it was a
bare, uncomfortable-looking place, and the landlady now felt sorry
that she had done nothing to make it appear more attractive.
To her surprise, however, her companion's dark, sensitive,
hatchet-shaped face became irradiated with satisfaction. "Capital!
Capital!" he exclaimed, for the first time putting down the bag he
held at his feet, and rubbing his long, thin hands together with a
quick, nervous movement.
"This is just what I have been looking for." He walked with long,
eager strides towards the gas stove. "First-rate--quite first-rate!
Exactly what I wanted to find! You must understand, Mrs.--er--
Bunting, that I am a man of science. I make, that is, all sorts of
experiments, and I often require the--ah, well, the presence of
great heat."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|