“You saw how it was yourself last night, sir,” said the troubled landlady. “Them hangings—you know the smoke goes through and through them. After leaving all the windows open this frosty morning, and a draught enough to give you your death, the place smells like I don’t know what. If it wasn’t for Miss I wouldn’t put up with it for a day; and the gentleman’s own room, doctor; if you was just to go in and see it—just put your head in and say good morning—you’d believe me.”
“I know all about it,” said the doctor; “but Miss Underwood, Mrs. Smith—?”
“There’s where it is, sir,” said the landlady. “I can’t find it in my heart to say a word to Miss. To see how she do manage them all, to be sure! but for all that, doctor, it stands to reason as one can’t spoil one’s lodgings for a family as may be gone tomorrow—not except it’s considered in the rent. It’s more natural-like to speak to a gentleman like you as knows the world, than to a young lady as one hasn’t a word to say against—the handiest, liveliest, managingest! Ah, doctor, she’d make a deal different a wife from her sister, that young lady would! though it isn’t my part to say nothink, considering all things, and that you’re relations, like; but Smith and me are both o’ one mind about it, Dr. Rider—unless it’s considered in the rent, or the gentleman drops smoking, or—”
“I hear Miss Underwood coming downstairs,” cried young Rider. “Next time I come we’ll arrange it all. But not a word to her, remember—not a syllable; and go upstairs and look after that poor child, there’s a good soul—she trusts you while she is gone, and so do I. There, there! another time. I’ll take the responsibility of satisfying you, Mrs. Smith,” said the doctor, in a prodigious hurry, ready to promise anything in this incautious moment, and bolting out of their little dark backroom, which the local architect’s mullions had converted into a kind of condemned cell. Nettie stood at the door, all ready for her expedition to Carlingford, with her two children, open-eyed and calmly inquisitive, but no longer noisy. Mrs. Fred was standing sulky at the parlour door. The doctor took off his hat to her as he helped Nettie into the front seat of the drag, but took care not to approach nearer. The children were packed in behind, under charge of the little groom, and, with an exhilarating sensation of lawlessness in the present pleasure, Dr. Rider turned his back upon his duty and the patient who expected him a mile on the other side of St. Roque’s, and drove, not too rapidly, into Carlingford.
“Mrs. Smith was talking to you of us,” said Nettie, flashing her penetrating eyes upon the confused doctor. “I know she was—I could see it in her face this morning, and in yours when you came out of her room. Dreadful little dungeon, is it not? I wonder what the man meant, to build such a place. Do they want to turn us out, Dr. Edward, or do they want more rent? I am not surprised, I am sure, after last night. Was it not odious of Fred to go and smoke in the parlour, the only place we can have tidy? But it is no use speaking to him, you know; nor to Susan either, for that matter. Married people do stand up for each other so when you say a word, however they may fight between themselves. But is it more rent they want, Dr. Edward? for I can’t afford more rent.”
“It is an abominable shame—you oughtn’t to afford anything. It is too dreadful to think of!” cried the angry doctor, involuntarily touching his horse with his whip in the energy of the moment, though he was indeed in no hurry to reach Carlingford.
“Hush,” said Nettie, lifting her tiny hand as though to put it to his incautious mouth, which, indeed, the doctor would not have objected to. “We shall quarrel on that subject if you say anything more, so it is better to stop at once. Nobody has a right to interfere with me; this is my business, and no one else has anything to do with it.”
“You mistake,” cried the doctor, startled out of all his prudences; “it ought to be my business quite as much as it is yours.”
Nettie looked at him with a certain careless scorn of the inferior creature—“Ah, yes, I daresay; but then you are only a man,” said Nettie; and the girl elevated that pretty drooping head, and flashed a whole torrent of brilliant reflections over the sombre figure beside her. He felt himself glow under the sudden radiance of the look. To fancy this wilful imperious creature a meek self-sacrificing heroine, was equally absurd and impossible. Was there any virtue at all in that dauntless enterprise of hers? or was it simple determination to have her own way?
“But not to quarrel,” said Nettie; “for indeed you are the only person in the world I can say a word to about the way things are going on,” she added with a certain momentary softening of voice and twinkling of her eyelid, as if some moisture had gathered there. “I think Fred is in a bad way. I think he is muddling his brains with that dreadful life he leads. To think of a man that could do hundreds of things living like that! A woman, you know, can only do a thing or two here
