The Town Traveller | Page 4

and put 'em under the door. And tell Mrs. Bubb I'll have
breakfast in bed; you can put it down outside and shout. And I say,
Moggie, ask somebody to run across and get me a 'Police News' and

'Clippings' and 'The Kennel'--understand? Two eggs, Moggie, and three
rashers, toasted crisp--understand?"
As the girl turned to descend a voice called to her from another room
on the same floor, a voice very distinctly feminine, rather shrill, and a
trifle imperative.
"Moggie, I want my hot water-sharp!"
"It ain't nine yet, miss," answered Moggie in a tone of remonstrance.
"I know that--none of your cheek! If you come up here hollering at
people's doors, how can anyone sleep? Bring the hot water at once, and
mind it is hot."
"You'll have to wait till it gits 'ot, miss."
"Shall I? If it wasn't too much trouble I'd come out and smack your face
for you, you dirty little wretch!"
The servant--she was about sixteen, and no dirtier than became her
position--scampered down the stairs, burst into the cellar kitchen, and
in a high, tearful wail complained to her mistress of the indignity she
had suffered. There was no living in the house with that Miss Sparkes,
who treated everybody like dirt under her feet. Smack her face, would
she? What next? And all because she said the water would have to be
'otted. And Mr. Gammon wanted his breakfast in bed, and--and--why,
there now, it had all been drove out of her mind by that Miss Sparkes.
Mrs. Bubb, the landlady, was frying some sausages for her first-floor
lodgers; as usual at this hour she wore (presumably over some invisible
clothing) a large shawl and a petticoat, her thin hair, black streaked
with grey, knotted and pinned into a ball on the top of her head. Here
and there about the kitchen ran four children, who were snatching a sort
of picnic breakfast whilst they made ready for school. They looked
healthy enough, and gabbled, laughed, sang, without heed to the elder
folk. Their mother, healthy too, and with no ill-natured face-a slow,
dull, sluggishly-mirthful woman of a common London type-heard
Moggie out, and shook up the sausages before replying.
"Never you mind Miss Sparkes; I'll give her a talkin' to when she
comes down. What was it as Mr. Gammon wanted? Breakfast in bed?
And what else? I never see such a girl for forgetting!"
"Well, didn't I tell you as my 'ead had never closed the top!" urged
Moggie in plaintive key. "How can I 'elp myself?"
"Here, take them letters up to him, and ask again; and if Miss Sparkes

says anything don't give her no answer--see? Billy, fill the big kettle,
and put it on before you go. Sally, you ain't a-goin' to school without
brushin' your 'air? Do see after your sister, Janey, an' don't let her look
such a slap-cabbage. Beetrice, stop that 'ollerin'; it fair mismerizes me!"
Having silently thrust five letters under Mr. Gammon's door, Moggie
gave a very soft tap, and half whispered a request that the lodger would
repeat his orders. Mr. Gammon did so with perfect good humour. As
soon as his voice had ceased that of Miss Sparkes sounded from the
neighbouring bedroom.
"Is that the water?"
For the pleasure of the thing Moggie stood to listen, an angry grin on
her flushed face.
"Moggie!--I'll give that little beast what for! Are you there?"
The girl made a quick motion with both her hands as if clawing an
enemy's face, then coughed loudly, and went away with a sound of
stamping on the thinly-carpeted stairs. One minute later Miss Sparkes'
door opened and Miss Sparkes herself rushed forth--a startling vision of
wild auburn hair about a warm complexion, and a small, brisk figure
girded in a flowery dressing-gown. She called at the full pitch of her
voice for Mrs. Bubb.
"Do you hear me? Mrs. Bubb, have the kindness to send me up my hot
water immejately! This moment, if you please!"
There came an answer, but not from the landlady. It sounded so near to
Miss Sparkes that she sprang back into her room.
"Patience, Polly! All in good time, my dear. Wrong foot out of bed this
morning?"
Her door slammed, and there followed a lazy laugh from Mr.
Gammon's chamber.
In due time the can of hot water was brought up, and soon after it came
a tray for Mr. Gammon, on which, together with his breakfast, lay the
three newspapers he had bespoken. Polly Sparkes throughout her
leisurely toilet was moved to irritation and curiosity by the sound of
frequent laughter on the other side of the party wall-- uproarious peals,
long chucklings in a falsetto key, staccato bursts of mirth.
"That is the comic stuff in