Homeward Bound, Page 2

at the other's sleeve.

  Mr. Pett, gazing into space, said that he thought it highly probable.

  "It wants to be done cleverly, though," said Mr. Hatchard, "else shemight get the idea that I wanted to go back."

  "I s'pose you know she's moved?" said Mr. Pett, with the air of a mananxious to change the conversation.

  "Eh?" said the other.

  "Number thirty-seven, John Street," said Mr. Pett. "Told my wife she'sgoing to take in lodgers. Calling herself Mrs. Harris, after her maidenname."

  He went off before Mr. Hatchard could recover, and the latter at onceverified the information in part by walking round to his old house. Bitsof straw and paper littered the front garden, the blinds were down, and abill was pasted on the front parlor window. Aghast at suchdetermination, he walked back to his lodgings in gloomy thought.

  On Saturday afternoon he walked round to John Street, and from the cornerof his eye, as he passed, stole a glance at No. 37. He recognized thecurtains at once, and, seeing that there was nobody in the room, leanedover the palings and peered at a card that stood on the window-sash:

  FURNISHED APARTMENTS FOR SINGLE YOUNG MAN BOARD IF DESIRED.

  He walked away whistling, and after going a little way turned and passedit again. He passed in all four times, and then, with an odd grinlurking at the corners of his mouth, strode up to the front door andknocked loudly. He heard somebody moving about inside, and, more withthe idea of keeping his courage up than anything else, gave another heavyknock at the door. It was thrown open hastily, and the astonished faceof his wife appeared before him.

  "What do you want?" she inquired, sharply.

  Mr. Hatchard raised his hat. "Good-afternoon, ma'am," he said, politely.

  "What do you want?" repeated his wife.

  "I called," said Mr. Hatchard, clearing his throat--"I called about thebill in the window."

  "I called about the bill in the window."]

  Mrs. Hatchard clutched at the door-post.

  "Well?" she gasped.

  "I'd like to see the rooms," said the other.

  "But you ain't a single young man," said his wife, recovering.

  "I'm as good as single," said Mr. Hatchard. "I should say, better."

  "You ain't young," objected Mrs. Hatchard. "I'm three years younger thanwhat you are," said Mr. Hatchard, dispassionately.

  His wife's lips tightened and her hand closed on the door; Mr. Hatchardput his foot in.

  "If you don't want lodgers, why do you put a bill up?" he inquired.

  "I don't take the first that comes," said his wife.

  "I'll pay a week in advance," said Mr. Hatchard, putting his hand in hispocket. "Of course, if you're afraid of having me here--afraid o' givingway to tenderness, I mean----"

  "Afraid?" choked Mrs. Hatchard. "Tenderness! I--I----"

  "Just a matter o' business," continued her husband; "that's my way oflooking at it--that's a man's way. I s'pose women are different. Theycan't----"

  "Come in," said Mrs. Hatchard, breathing hard Mr. Hatchard obeyed, andclapping a hand over his mouth ascended the stairs behind her. At thetop she threw open the door of a tiny bedroom, and stood aside for him toenter. Mr. Hatchard sniffed critically.

  "Smells rather stuffy," he said, at last.

  "You needn't have it," said his wife, abruptly. "There's plenty of otherfish in the sea."

  "Yes; and I expect they'd stay there if they saw this room," said theother.

  "Don't think I want you to have it; because I don't," said Mrs. Hatchard,making a preliminary movement to showing him downstairs.

  "They might suit me," said Mr. Hatchard, musingly, as he peeped in at thesitting-room door. "I shouldn't be at home much. I'm a man that's fondof spending his evenings out."

  Mrs. Hatchard, checking a retort, eyed him grimly.

  "I've seen worse," he said, slowly; "but then I've seen a good many. Howmuch are you asking?"

  "Seven shillings a week," replied his wife. "With breakfast, tea, andsupper, a pound a week."

  Mr. Hatchard nearly whistled, but checked himself just in time.

  "I'll give it a trial," he said, with an air of unbearable patronage.

  Mrs. Hatchard hesitated.

  "If you come here, you quite understand it's on a business footing," shesaid.

  "O' course," said the other, with affected surprise. "What do you thinkI want it on?"

  "You come here as a stranger, and I look after you as a stranger,"continued his wife.

  "Certainly," said the other. "I shall be made more comfortable that way,I'm sure. But, of course, if you're afraid, as I said before, of givingway to tender----"

  "Tender fiddlesticks!" interrupted his wife, flushing and eying himangrily.

  "I'll come in and bring my things at nine o'clock to-night," said Mr.Hatchard. "I'd like the windows open and the rooms aired a bit. Andwhat about the sheets?"

  "What about them?" inquired his wife.

  "Don't put me in damp sheets, that's all," said Mr. Hatchard. "One placeI was at----"

  He broke off suddenly.

  "Well!" said his wife, quickly.

  "Was very particular about them," said Mr. Hatchard, recovering. "Well,good-afternoon to you, ma'am."

  "I want three weeks in advance," said his wife. "Three--" exclaimed theother. "Three weeks in advance? Why----"

  "Those are my terms," said Mrs. Hatchard. "Take 'em or leave 'em.P'r'aps it would be better if you left 'em."

  Mr. Hatchard looked thoughtful, and then with obvious reluctance took hispurse from one pocket and some silver from another, and made up therequired sum.

  "And what if I'm not comfortable here?" he inquired, as his wife hastilypocketed the money. "It'll be your own fault," was the reply.

  Mr. Hatchard looked dubious, and, in a thoughtful fashion, walkeddownstairs and let himself out. He began to think that the joke was ofa more complicated nature than he had expected, and it was not withoutforebodings that he came back at nine o'clock that night accompanied by aboy with his baggage.

  His gloom disappeared the moment the door opened. The air inside waswarm and comfortable, and pervaded by an appetizing smell of cookedmeats. Upstairs a small bright fire and a neatly laid supper-tableawaited his arrival.

  He sank into an easy-chair and rubbed his hands. Then his gaze fell on asmall bell on the table, and opening the door he rang for supper.

  "Yes, sir," said Mrs. Hatchard, entering the room. "Supper, please,"said the new lodger, with dignity.

  Mrs. Hatchard looked bewildered. "Well, there it is," she said,indicating the table. "You don't want me to feed you, do you?"

  The lodger eyed the small, dry piece of cheese, the bread and butter, andhis face fell. "I--I thought I smelled something cooking," he said atlast.

  "'I--I thought I smelled something cooking,' he said."]

  "Oh, that was my supper," said Mrs. Hatchard, with a smile.

  "I--I'm very hungry," said Mr. Hatchard, trying to keep his temper.

  "It's the cold weather, I expect," said Mrs. Hatchard, thoughtfully;"it does affect some people that way, I know. Please ring if you wantanything."

  She left the room, humming blithely, and Mr. Hatchard, after sitting forsome time in silent consternation, got up and ate his frugal meal. Thefact that the water-jug held three pints and was filled to the brim gavehim no satisfaction.

  He was still hungry when he arose next morning, and, with curiositytempered by uneasiness, waited for his breakfast. Mrs. Hatchard came inat last, and after polite inquiries as to how he had slept proceeded tolay breakfast. A fresh loaf and a large teapot appeared, and the smellof frizzling bacon ascended from below. Then Mrs. Hatchard came inagain, and, smiling benevolently, placed an egg before him and withdrew.Two minutes later he rang the bell.

  "You can clear away," he said, as Mrs. Hatchard entered the room.

  "What, no breakfast?" she said,
holding up her hands. "Well, I've heardof you single young men, but I never thought----"

  "The tea's cold and as black as ink," growled the indignant lodger, "andthe egg isn't eatable."

  "I'm afraid you're a bit of a fault-finder," said Mrs. Hatchard, shakingher head at him. "I'm