The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 176: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE CHILD OF WATERLOO. 178 wrapped up in a cloak, and he calls for the lady of the house— ahem!—meaning me. Well, I has him shown into the parlor, and down I goes. ‘Madam,’ he says, ‘have you any apart- ments to let? ‘ Yes,’ says J; ‘the attic went away to-day, so it's well aired,’ says I; ‘and the first floor back will be vacant in a week.’ ‘Ah? says he, ‘the first floor back would have done best for me—I do not like going so far up-stairs as the attic.” ‘Well, but,’ I up and says, ‘cannot you do with the attic for a week, till the first floor back is gone, you see?’ ‘ Yes, to be sure,’ he says; ‘ give me a key, and Pll take possession at once. There’s some rent in advance.’ And so he makes no more ado, but down he throws a sovereign on the table, which, in course, I takes up; but I says: ‘ Well, sir, of course I haven’t no doubt in the world but it’s all right; but business is business, and we always does ask for a reference; so, if you will be so good as to give me one, I shall be much obliged.’ ‘Oh, yes,’ says he, ‘you can go to the Lord Mayor and tell him that his friend Mr. Smith has referred to him, and you will soon be sat- isfied.’ ‘The Lord Mavor, sir,’ says 1; ‘I think I sees me going and bothering the Lord Mayor about any such thing.’ ‘ Well.’ he says, ‘that’s my reference. At all events, I cannot help it if you won't go; am I not to have a lodging because you object to going to the Lord Mayor, especially when I am willing to pay you your own price? Well, Miss Morton, I was staggered; this seemed so very reasonable; and I says to him, ‘Sir.’ says I, ‘I will go to the Lord Mayor; and, in the meantime, there's a key, and you can bring in your things,’ says I: for, to tell the truth, Miss Morton, I just as much thought of going to the Lord Mayor as I thought of going to the great mogul.” ‘‘ And have you been deceived ?” ‘‘T think I really have. He has brought in nothing, nothing at all in the world. He says he wants nothing,.not even a pair of boots cleaned. He came home in the middle of the night, and he bas gone out again now.” ‘‘ But still, in all this, Mrs. Jenkins, I do not see that there is anything reprehensible, or that can be really found fault with.” <A, but it is not at all lodger-like; not the least, I should say. It’s uncommonly mysterious; and if I was to say I liked it, I should be telling a confounded—a-hem!—that I should, Miss Morton. I can assure you I shall get rid of him: nosuch lodgers will do for me. I like a gentleman to come in like a gentleman, and bring all his clothes and his little fic-fads, and say to me, ‘Mrs. Jenkins, I want you to bring mea lot of things for my breakfast. I dine out, and sometimes have a friend in the even- ing.’” **But does not all that give you much more trouble, Mrs. Jenkins ?” : ‘*Yes, it does, in a manner of speaking, but I don’t mind trouble, and it’s Christian like. But you do look pale, indeed! Ah, you are worriting yourself, as I said to——” “Xs you said?” interrupted Mabel. ‘‘I do sincerely hope, Mrs, Jenkins, that you will not make me a subject of remark to any one,” comicbooks. com