England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century
'Oh, Tilly's a-going to marry the p'liceman with red hair as stands on
the Embankment!' came from Mrs. Allchin; whereupon followed
inextinguishable laughter.
But they wore determined to tease Totty, and began to talk from one to
the other about Luke Ackroyd, not mentioning his name, but using signs
and symbols.
'If you two wait for husbands till I'm married,' said Totty at length
to the laughing girls, 'you've a good chance to die old maids. I prefer
to keep my earnings for my own spending, thank you.'
'When's Thyrza Trent going to be married?' asked Mrs. Allchin. 'Do you
know, Totty?'
'In about a fortnight, I think.'
'Is the bands puts up?'
'They're going to be married at the Registry Office.'
'Well, I never!' cried Annie West. 'You wouldn't catch me doing without
a proper wedding! I suppose that's why Thyrza won't talk about it. But
I believe he's a rum sort of man, isn't he?'
Nobody could reply from personal acquaintance with Gilbert Grail. Totty
did not choose to give her opinion.
'I say,' she exclaimed, 'we've had enough about marriages. Tilly, make
yourself useful, child, and cut some bread.'
For a couple of hours at least gossip was unintermittent. Then Mrs.
Allchin declared that her husband would be 'making a row' if she stayed
from home any later. Tilly Roach took leave at the same time. Totty and
Miss West chatted a little longer, then put on their hats to have a
ramble in Lambeth Walk.
They had not gone many paces from the house when they were overtaken by
some one, who said:
'Totty! I want to speak to you.'
Totty would not look round. It was Ackroyd's voice.
'I say, Totty!'
But she walked on. Ackroyd remained on the edge of the pavement. In a
minute or two he saw that Miss Nancarrow was coming towards him
unaccompanied.
'Oh, it's you, is it?' she said. 'What do you want, Mr. Ackroyd?'
'Why didn't you come this afternoon?'
'Well, I like that! Why didn't _you_ come?'
'I was a bit late. I really couldn't help it, Totty. Did you go away
before I came?'
'Why, of course I did. How long was I to wait?'
'I'm very sorry. Let's go somewhere now. I've been waiting about for
more than an hour on the chance of seeing you.'
He mentioned the chief music-hall of the neighbourhood.
'I don't mind,' said Totty. 'But I can't go beyond sixpence.'
'Oh, all right! I'll see to that.'
'No, you won't. I pay for myself, or I don't go at all. That's my rule.'
'As you like.'
The place of entertainment was only just open; they went in with a
crowd of people and found seats. The prevailing odours of the hall were
stale beer and stale tobacco; the latter was speedily freshened by the
fumes from pipes. Ackroyd ordered a glass of beer, and deposited it on
a little ledge before him, an arrangement similar to that for different
purposes in a church pew; Totty would have nothing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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