Part 64 (2/2)
”Why, really, sir, we do not build private houses for ball-rooms--we could not, sir; the price of timber just now is enormous, and the additional strength required would never pay us.”
”What then! do you mean to say that there are no b.a.l.l.s to be given in London?”
”Oh no, sir!--certainly not; but you must be aware that few people do.
Even our aristocracy hire Willis's rooms for their b.a.l.l.s. Some of the old houses indeed, such as Devons.h.i.+re House, may do for such a thing.”
”But, Mr Smithers, I expect you will make this ceiling good.”
”Much obliged to you sir, for giving me the preference--I will do it as reasonable as anybody,” replied Mr Smithers, bowing. ”I will order my workmen directly--they are only next door.”
For a fortnight we were condemned to dine in the back dining-room; and after that Mr Smithers sent in a bill which cost me more than the ball and supper.
So soon as all was right again, I determined that I would hang up my pictures; for I had been accustomed to look at them for years, and I missed them. I sent for a carpenter and gave him directions.
”I have the middle now, sir, exactly,” said the man, standing on the high steps; ”but,” continued he, tapping with his hammer, ”I can't find wood.”
”Can't find wood!”
”No, sir,” replied the man, tapping as far as he could reach from right to left; ”nothing to nail to, sir. But there never is no wood in these new-built houses.”
”Confound your new houses!” exclaimed I.
”Well, it is very provoking, my dear!” exclaimed my wife.
”I suppose that their new houses are not built for pictures any more than for b.a.l.l.s,” replied I; and I sighed. ”What must be done?”
”I think, sir, if you were to order bra.s.s rods to be fixed from one corner to the other, we might find means to fasten them,” observed the carpenter; ”but there's no wood, that's certain.”
”What the devil is the house built of then?” exclaimed I.
”All lath and plaster, sir,” replied the man, tapping right and left.
At a heavy expense I procured the rods, and at last the pictures were hung up.
The next annoyance that we had was a very bad smell, which we found to proceed from the drains; and the bricklayers were sent for. All the drains were choked, it appeared, from their being so very narrow; and after having up the whole bas.e.m.e.nt, at the expense of 40, that nuisance was abated.
We now had two months' repose, and I was in hopes that things would go on more comfortably; but one day I overheard a conversation between my wife and daughters, as I pa.s.sed by the door of the room, which I must candidly acknowledge gave me satisfaction.
”It's really very awkward, mamma--one don't know where to put anything: there's not a cupboard or stow-hole in the whole house--not even a store-room.”
”Well, it is so, my dear; I wonder we did not observe it when we looked over it. What a nice set of cupboards we had at Brompton Hall.”
”Oh! yes--I wish we had them here, mamma. Couldn't we have some built?”
”I don't like to speak to your papa about it, my dear; he has already been put to such expense, what with the ceiling and the drains.”
”Then don't, mamma; papa is really very good-natured.”
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