The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 360: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE LISTENER 329 Christian knocked at the door, which was speedily opened by Mrs. Macaulay in person, for she had seen him pass her parlour window. Perceiving that he was well dressed and was evidently in comfortable circumstances, the prudent landlady gave him a hearty welcome, which she could safely do, as his appearance relieved her of the idea that he was possibly coming to borrow money, in which case she had an excuse in readiness. She would have been extremely sorry, nothing would have given her greater pleasure, but she had only that very morning paid her rent, and what with this disbursement and her Christmas bills, she was drained quite dry. But fortunately Mrs. Macaulay was spared this tissue of falsehoods, inasmuch as Christian came for no money- hunting purpose whatsoever. ‘“ And how do you do?” she exclaimed, sacignn him by the hand, ‘‘ and how is that dear sister of yours? I have often and often thought of you, and wondered why you never dropped in to take a friendly cup of tea. I had been thinking that I would call on Mrs. Giles to learn if you were still with her, and how you were getting on, but I have been so busy. For the rooms you used to occupy were let — immediately after you left — to an elderly couple. Though between you and me,”’ she added, lowering her voice to a whisper, and putting on a look of mysterious confidence, ‘they are no great shakes, for Mr. Johnson — that’s the name — locks up his wine and brandy, and Mrs. Johnson never by any accident leaves the key in the tea-caddy. N ow isn’t that mean? ”’ While thus speaking, Mrs. Macaulay had led the way into her parlour, and Christian, in order to avoid giving an answer to the question with which she had so indignantly concluded her speech, inquired if Mr. Redcliffe was at home. ‘No, but he will be in almost directly,” replied Mrs. Macaulay. ‘ Do sit down and take a glass of wine.” ‘No, I thank you, not in the middle of the day.” “Well, and you are quite right,’ exclaimed the landlady. ‘““ Never drink wine in the middle of the day. I never do, unless it is at a neighbour’s, or a lodger happens to leave a drop at the bottom of a bottle. Not that the Johnsons do. No, bless you! They even decant their port down to the very dregs, and that, you know, is so excessively mean. But what do you want with Mr. Redcliffe? ”’ COM a LOOKS (CO)