Mrs. Bell moved reluctantly to the mantelpiece, and from a large canister extracted a small doorkey with a dangling label. As the oldest tenant she had charge of the keys whenever the houses fell vacant, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that she could bring herself to hand them over. “I hardly reckoned on you being up so soon,” she remarked rather crossly, and still retaining the key. “Folks don’t always come the first day; I don’t know why, I’m sure. Happen they don’t care that much, or they feel a bit delicate-like about claiming their rights.... Not but what you can do as you choose,” she added quickly, as the charwoman flushed, “so don’t go thinking I mean to be nasty.” “I just _had_ to come!” the other answered, almost apologetically. She was now on her newly-restored legs, and drawing nearer the precious key. “Come to that, the house has been mine a sight o’ years, after a manner o’ speaking!” she finished, with spirit. “And anyway, I can’t rest till I’ve seen about getting it cleaned.” “Nay, what, you’ll find it clean enough, if that’s all!” Mrs. Bell exclaimed eagerly, moving the key further out of her reach. “When anybody dies, the governors always has it done special.” “Not what _I_ call clean!”... Mrs. Clapham’s voice was regal and her head went up in the air. Her tone was that of the recognised artist, whose dictum on his own subject is beyond dispute. “Governors mean well enough by it, I don’t doubt,” she admitted kindly, “but it’ll be mighty queer, all the same, if it’s clean enough to suit _me_!” She held out her hand firmly, but her hostess still clung to the dear possession. “Ay, well, then, I’d best come and show you round,” was her last desperate expedient; but Mrs. Clapham would have none of that, either. “I’d rather go by myself,” she told her amiably, but in the same indisputable tone. “You’re right good, I’m sure, and I’m hoping as we’ll be friends; but I think when I first see t’ house, I’d like best to see it alone.” She extended her hand further, and after a pause the other laid the key in her palm, much as if she were handing over the keys of some beleaguered city. She was a trifle offended, as the charwoman had expected, and she was also decidedly disappointed. Showing the new tenant over her own house would have fanned for a while the flicker of dying importance. But she was aware that Mrs. Clapham came with testimonials that couldn’t be bettered, and she was also impressed by the fact that she had known old Mr. T. And in spite of herself she was impressed by her royal attitude towards the cleaning. The layman gets the better of the artist in four cases out of five, but this happened to be the fifth.