Part 124 (1/2)

And after a while, he saw the latch raised cautiously, and the door begin to open very slowly and noiselessly. It had opened thus perhaps some six inches when he spoke:

”Is that you, Mr. Shrig?”

Immediately the door became stationary and, after some brief pause a voice issued from behind it, a voice somewhat wheezing and hoa.r.s.e.

”Which your parding I ax, sir,” said the voice, ”which your parding I 'umbly ax, but it ain't, me being a respectable female, sir, name o' Snummitt, sir--charing, sir, also was.h.i.+ng and clear-starching, sir!”

Hereupon, the door having opened to its fullest, Barnabas saw a stout, middle-aged woman whose naturally unlovely look had been further marred by the loss of one eye, while the survivor, as though constantly striving to make amends, was continually rolling itself up and down and to and fro, in a manner quite astonis.h.i.+ng to behold.

”Which my name is Snummitt,” she repeated, bobbing a curtsy and momentarily eclipsing the rolling eye under the poke of a very large bonnet, ”Mrs. Snummitt, sir, which though a widder I'm respectable and of 'igh character and connections. Which me 'aving only one heye ain't by no manner of means to be 'eld ag'in me, seeing as it were took away by a act o' Providence in the shape of another lady's boot-'eel sixteen summers ago come Michaelmas.”

”Indeed,” said Barnabas, seeing Mrs. Snummitt had paused for breath, ”but what--”

”Which I were to give you Mr. Bimby's compliments, sir, and ax if you could oblige him with the loan of a wine-gla.s.s?”

”Mr. Bimby?”

”Over-'ead, sir--garret! You may 'ave 'eard 'im, now and then--flute, sir, 'armonious, though doleful.”

”And he wants a wine-gla.s.s, does he?” said Barnabas, and forthwith produced that article from a rickety corner-cupboard and handed it to Mrs. Snummitt, who took it, glanced inside it, turned it upside-down, and rolled her eye at Barnabas eloquently.

”What more?” he inquired.

”Which I would mention, sir, or shall we say, 'int, as if you could put a little drop o' summat inside of it--brandy, say--'t would be doing a great favor.”

”Ah, to be sure!” said Barnabas. And, having poured out a stiff quantum of the spirit, he gave it to Mrs. Snummit, who took it, curtsied, and rolling her solitary orb at the bottle on the table, smiled engagingly.

”Which I would thank you kindly on be'alf o' Mr. Bimby, sir, and, seeing it upon the tip o' your tongue to ax me to partake, I begs to say 'Amen,' with a slice o' lemming cut thin, and thank you from my 'eart.”

”I fear I have no lemon,” began Barnabas.

”Then we won't say no more about it, sir, not a word. 'Evings forbid as a lemming should come betwixt us seeing as I am that shook on account o' pore, little Miss Pell.”

”Who is Miss Pell?”

”She's one as was, sir, but now--ain't,” answered Mrs. Snummitt and, nodding gloomily, she took down the brandy in three separate and distinct gulps, closed her eyes, sighed, and nodded her poke bonnet more gloomily than before. ”Little Miss Pell, sir, 'ad a attic three doors down, sir, and pore little Miss Pell 'as been and gone and--done it! Which do it I knowed she would.”

”Done what?” inquired Barnabas.

”Five long year come s.h.i.+ne, come rain, I've knowed pore Miss Pell, and though small, a real lady she were, but lonesome. Last night as ever was, she met me on the stairs, and by the same token I 'ad a scrubbing-brush in one 'and and a bucket in the other, me 'aving been charing for the first floor front, a 'andsome gent with whiskers like a lord, and 'oh, Mrs. Snummitt!' she sez and all of a twitter she was too, 'dear Mrs. Snummitt,' sez she, 'I'm a-going away on a journey,' she sez, 'but before I go,' she sez, 'I should like to kiss you good-by, me being so lonesome,' she sez. Which kiss me she did, sir, and likewise wep' a couple o' big tears over me, pore soul, and then, run away into 'er dark little attic and locked 'erself in, and--done it!”

”What--what did she do?”

”'Ung 'erself in the cupboard, sir. Kissed me only last night she did and wep' over me, and now--cold and stiff, pore soul?”

”But why did she do it?” cried Barnabas, aghast.

”Well, there was the lonesomeness and--well, she 'adn't eat anything for two days it seems, and--”

”You mean that she was hungry--starving?”