Boardinghouses -- Juvenile fiction; London (England) -- Juvenile fiction; Love stories; Mothers and daughters -- Juvenile fiction
"I don't want strangers to come here just now," I said.
"But you forget, my dear child, that this is everybody's drawing-room.
This cosy corner is my special seat, but we cannot possibly keep our
boarders out--it is impossible, my darling."
She had scarcely said the words before the door burst open, and a man
with red hair and red whiskers, in a loud check suit, entered.
"Ah," he said, "I thought as much; I thought I'd get to headquarters
if I came here. Now, is this lady Mrs. Wickham, and is this young
lady Miss Wickham? Now, Miss Mullins, I will see them for myself,
please; you cannot keep me back; I am determined to have my rights,
and----"
I rushed towards the door. One glance at mother's face was enough. It
had turned white, the blue look came round her lips, there was a
startled gleam in her eyes.
"What is it?" she said, and she looked at Jane.
"Go to her, Jane; stay with her," I said; "I will manage this man. Go
to her, and stay with her."
Jane went to mother, and I rushed up to the man.
"I am Miss Wickham," I said; "I know what you want. Come with me into
the next room."
He followed me, muttering and grumbling.
"Why shouldn't I see Mrs. Wickham--she is at the head of this
establishment? My name is Allthorp; you are all heavily in my debt,
and I want to know the reason why I don't see the colour of my money."
"Oh! please do not speak so loud," I implored.
"Why?" he asked. "I am not mealy-mouthed. I want my money, and I am
not afraid to ask for it."
"I tell you, you shall have your money, but do not speak so loud. Mrs.
Wickham is ill."
"Ah, that's a fine excuse. That's what Miss Mullins tried to put me
off with. Miss Mullins seems to be a sort of frost, but I was
determined either to see you or Mrs. Wickham."
"I am Miss Wickham."
"And the house belongs to you? I can sue you if I like for my money."
"Certainly you can, and I hope if you sue any one it will be me. How
much is owed to you?"
"Eighty-nine pounds, and I tell you what it is, Miss Wickham. It's a
shame when a man works hard from early morning to late at night, a
black shame that he should not be paid what is due to him. I'd like to
know what right you have to take my tea and my coffee, and to eat my
preserved fruits, and to make your table comfortable with my
groceries, when you never pay me one farthing."
"It is not right," I answered; "it is wrong, and you shall be paid in
full." I took a little note-book and entered the amount.
"Give me your address," I said; "you shall be paid."
He did so.
"I'll give you twenty-four hours," he said. "If at the end of that
time I do not receive my money in _full_, yes, in _full_, mark you,
I'll have a man in. I hear it answered very well in the case of
Pattens, and it shall answer well in my case. So now you have had my
last word."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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