“Why, sir, I suppose he must pay his rent somehow, but I don’t know as he does anything more. I’m told that they owe money all over the town, but the tradespeople make no fuss, because, as Mr. Jairing the butcher says to me, ‘It’s all very fine, Mrs. Parrot,’ he says, ‘talkin’ of hexecutions, but what’s the use o’ going to the expense of a distress when there’s nothing to seize?’ There’s a deal in that, sir.” “God help them!” muttered Holdsworth to himself. Then looking up he said, “Do you think Mrs. Conway would let her little girl come and have tea with me this afternoon?” “I should think she would, sir, and feel honoured by the askin’.” “I have not seen the child to-day.” “No, sir! Mrs. Conway don’t often come out. She kapes a bit of a wench as does her arrands, and I’ve told the slut times out o’ mind to put her bonnet on, an’ not go flyin’ down the road as though a orficer was arter her, disgracin’ of our neighbourhood, and frightening away any respectable person as might be comin’ wi’ a bad tooth. I don’t think of _him_, sir. If I could put a sixpence in his way I would, for the sake of his wife an’ the little one.” “How shall I invite little Nelly if I do not see her?” “I’ll run across, if you like, when I’ve got your dinner ready, and ask Mrs. Conway if she’ll let the child come. Perhaps you’ll just watch, sir, and tell me when the husband leaves the house. I don’t want to meet him if I can help it.” An hour elapsed before Holdsworth saw Mr. Conway pass on his way to the High Street, on which he rang the bell and informed Mrs. Parrot that she might now call on Mrs. Conway in safety. His anxiety to have the child impressed his landlady as a very odd thing. She could understand his admiration of Nelly; she could also understand his calling her in and giving her a kiss and a present. No man’s heart, she considered, could fail to be warmed by the sight of so pretty a little girl. But she could not understand him posting himself at the window, and looking troubled because he did not see the child, and showing himself as anxious to have her to tea as if she was a grown woman, and he was courting her. She sailed across the road (watched by Holdsworth), her cap-strings streaming over her shoulders, and walked up to the door of the Conways’ house, and gave a single knock. She was kept waiting so long, that when the door was at last opened by the “bit of a slut,” who, to judge by her complexion, appeared to have been devoting the last hour or two to black-leading her face, Mrs. Parrot, instead of asking for Mrs. Conway, began storming at her for “kaping respectable folks on the doorsteps while she sat readin’ ha’porths o’ bad fiction by the kitchen fire.” “I wasn’t readin’. I didn’t hear yer. Who do you want--missus?” said the girl sulkily. “Why, Mrs. Conway, of course. Show me in, and go an’ tell her at once that I’m here,” replied Mrs. Parrot, not waiting to be shown in, but pushing into the middle of the passage.