Gritter,’ said the girl.
‘Oh, indeed?’ Mrs Gritter felt such occasions called for an expression of injured innocence. She regarded ‘notice’ in the light of a censure upon her domestic capacities.
‘I – I’ve got something better to do,’ the girl went on; ‘and I can afford a little more rent –’
‘There’s the first floor front, with foldin’ doors,’ suggested Mrs Gritter hopefully. ‘If you could afford another ten shillings.’
The girl shook her head laughingly.
‘Thank you, Mrs Gritter,’ she said; ‘but I want to live nearer my work –’
‘Tube practically opposite the ’ouse,’ persisted the landlady; buses to and fro, so to speak. It’s very hard on me losin’ two lodgers in a week.’
‘Two?’ asked the girl in surprise.
The landlady nodded.
‘Between you and me and the gatepost,’ she said confidentially and polishing her spectacles with the corner of her alpaca apron, ‘Mr Bray has been a trial – always behind with his rent an’ owes me three weeks.’
The girl was shocked. She had never troubled to enquire into the young man’s affairs. She knew, of course, that he was not any too well off, but it never occurred to her that he was so desperately hard up. She understood now the bitterness in his voice when he spoke of his five shillings rise.
‘It’s studying that does it,’ said Mrs Gritter mournfully; ‘wastin’ money on puttin’ things in your head instead of puttin’ ’em in your stummick an’ on your back. What’s the good of it? Education! It fills the prisons an’ the workhouses and – and the army!’
She had a son in the army, and she bore the junior service a grudge in consequence; for sons in Southwark mean a contribution to the family finance.
The girl bit her lip in thought.
‘Perhaps,’ she hesitated. ‘Perhaps if I were to pay you – the arrears?’
A gleam came into the landlady’s eyes only to vanish again.
‘That’s no good,’ she said. ‘Besides, he’s given me some things to hold for the money.’
‘Some things?’ Elsie looked at the woman from under her brows. ‘What things?’
Mrs Gritter avoided her eyes.
‘Not his models?’ asked the girl quickly.
Mrs Gritter nodded.
‘To ’ave and to ’old,’ she said, mistakenly imagining she was indulging in legal terminology, ‘until he doth pay.’
She had a passion for phrases of a certain sonorous type.
‘You ought not to have allowed him to do so,’ said the girl, stamping her foot. ‘You knew that he would pay in time!’
Mrs Gritter sniffed.
‘He didn’t exactly give ’em to me,’ she said; ‘but I seized ’em according to lawr!’
The girl stared at her as though she were some strange new insect.
‘You seized them?’ she asked. ‘Took them out of his room?’
Mrs Gritter nodded complacently.
‘According to the lawr,’ she justified herself.
‘Why – why, you’re not honest!’ cried the girl.
A dull red rose to the cheeks of the excellent Mrs Gritter. ‘Not honest!’ she said, raising her voice to its full strident pitch. ‘Don’t you go saying things like that about respectable people, miss –’
There came a knock at the door, a sharp authoritative knock. Then, without waiting for permission to enter, the door opened and two men came in.
‘Marion?’ asked one.
‘I am Miss Marion,’ replied the girl, wondering what this unceremonious entry meant.
The man nodded in a friendly way.
‘I am Sergeant Colestaff of the Metropolitan Police,’ he said, ‘and I shall take you into custody on a charge of stealing the sum of fourteen pounds, the property of your employers, Messrs Tack and Brighten.’
She did not faint.
She stood like a figure carved in stone, motionless.
Mrs Gritter eyed her darkly and muttered, ‘Not honest!’
‘Who charges me?’ the girl asked faintly.
‘Mr King Kerry,’ said the detective.
‘King Kerry – no, no!’ Her hands went out and caught the detective’s arm imploringly.
‘It
‘Oh, indeed?’ Mrs Gritter felt such occasions called for an expression of injured innocence. She regarded ‘notice’ in the light of a censure upon her domestic capacities.
‘I – I’ve got something better to do,’ the girl went on; ‘and I can afford a little more rent –’
‘There’s the first floor front, with foldin’ doors,’ suggested Mrs Gritter hopefully. ‘If you could afford another ten shillings.’
The girl shook her head laughingly.
‘Thank you, Mrs Gritter,’ she said; ‘but I want to live nearer my work –’
‘Tube practically opposite the ’ouse,’ persisted the landlady; buses to and fro, so to speak. It’s very hard on me losin’ two lodgers in a week.’
‘Two?’ asked the girl in surprise.
The landlady nodded.
‘Between you and me and the gatepost,’ she said confidentially and polishing her spectacles with the corner of her alpaca apron, ‘Mr Bray has been a trial – always behind with his rent an’ owes me three weeks.’
The girl was shocked. She had never troubled to enquire into the young man’s affairs. She knew, of course, that he was not any too well off, but it never occurred to her that he was so desperately hard up. She understood now the bitterness in his voice when he spoke of his five shillings rise.
‘It’s studying that does it,’ said Mrs Gritter mournfully; ‘wastin’ money on puttin’ things in your head instead of puttin’ ’em in your stummick an’ on your back. What’s the good of it? Education! It fills the prisons an’ the workhouses and – and the army!’
She had a son in the army, and she bore the junior service a grudge in consequence; for sons in Southwark mean a contribution to the family finance.
The girl bit her lip in thought.
‘Perhaps,’ she hesitated. ‘Perhaps if I were to pay you – the arrears?’
A gleam came into the landlady’s eyes only to vanish again.
‘That’s no good,’ she said. ‘Besides, he’s given me some things to hold for the money.’
‘Some things?’ Elsie looked at the woman from under her brows. ‘What things?’
Mrs Gritter avoided her eyes.
‘Not his models?’ asked the girl quickly.
Mrs Gritter nodded.
‘To ’ave and to ’old,’ she said, mistakenly imagining she was indulging in legal terminology, ‘until he doth pay.’
She had a passion for phrases of a certain sonorous type.
‘You ought not to have allowed him to do so,’ said the girl, stamping her foot. ‘You knew that he would pay in time!’
Mrs Gritter sniffed.
‘He didn’t exactly give ’em to me,’ she said; ‘but I seized ’em according to lawr!’
The girl stared at her as though she were some strange new insect.
‘You seized them?’ she asked. ‘Took them out of his room?’
Mrs Gritter nodded complacently.
‘According to the lawr,’ she justified herself.
‘Why – why, you’re not honest!’ cried the girl.
A dull red rose to the cheeks of the excellent Mrs Gritter. ‘Not honest!’ she said, raising her voice to its full strident pitch. ‘Don’t you go saying things like that about respectable people, miss –’
There came a knock at the door, a sharp authoritative knock. Then, without waiting for permission to enter, the door opened and two men came in.
‘Marion?’ asked one.
‘I am Miss Marion,’ replied the girl, wondering what this unceremonious entry meant.
The man nodded in a friendly way.
‘I am Sergeant Colestaff of the Metropolitan Police,’ he said, ‘and I shall take you into custody on a charge of stealing the sum of fourteen pounds, the property of your employers, Messrs Tack and Brighten.’
She did not faint.
She stood like a figure carved in stone, motionless.
Mrs Gritter eyed her darkly and muttered, ‘Not honest!’
‘Who charges me?’ the girl asked faintly.
‘Mr King Kerry,’ said the detective.
‘King Kerry – no, no!’ Her hands went out and caught the detective’s arm imploringly.
‘It
Similar Books
