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"Now, that's what I call smart observation, Carrie," said the Gillingwater burners, beaming upon Miss Waghorn. "Oh, we all know that Mr. Gammon's more than seven" replied the young lady with a throaty laugh, and her joke was admirably received. "Business good, sir?" asked Gammon. "Not bad for the time of year, sir. Is it true, do you know, that Milligan of Bishopsgate has burst up?"
Her door slammed, and there followed a lazy laugh from Mr. Gammon's chamber. In due time the can of hot water was brought up, and soon after it came a tray for Mr. Gammon, on which, together with his breakfast, lay the three newspapers he had bespoken.
Then again he soothed her with solid flattery; nothing of the kind was too gross for Polly's appetite. And so conversing they shortened the journey to remote Dulwich. With gathered skirts and a fear, partly real but more affected, Miss Sparkes entered the yard where Gammon's dogs were kept.
Moggie, the general, knocked at Mr. Gammon's door, and was answered by a sleepy "Hallo?" "Mrs. Bubb wants to know if you know what time it is, sir? 'Cos it's half-past eight an' more." "All right!" sounded cheerfully from within. "Any letters for me?" "Yes, sir; a 'eap." "Bring 'em up, and put 'em under the door. And tell Mrs. Bubb I'll have breakfast in bed; you can put it down outside and shout.
This unusual display of public somnolence on Master Gammon's part, together with the veteran's reputation for slowness, made the farmer fret at him as being in some way an obstruction to the lively progress of the hours.
On a side-table in the room stood a remarkable pile, under cover of a shawl. Robert lifted the shawl, and beheld the wooden boxes, one upon the other, containing Master Gammon's and Mrs. Sumfit's rival savings, which they had presented to Dahlia, in the belief that her husband was under a cloud of monetary misfortune that had kept her proud heart from her old friends.
And to think that she might be going down to breakfast at the same time, with Mr. Gammon's jokes for a relish! "Oh, the wretches! The mean, selfish brutes!" She stamped about the floor to ease her nerves as she put on a common hat and an old jacket. She unlocked her door with violence, banged it open, and slammed it to again.
"Afraid not," replied the traveller, "but I know a man out Hoxton way who's pushing a new lamp-glass cleaner. You might give him a look in. It goes well, I'm told, in the eastern suburbs." Presently a coin of substantial value passed from Gammon's pocket into that of his gloomy friend. "Poor devil!" said the good fellow to himself. "He married a tripe-dresser's daughter, and she nags him.
In this warm weather the atmosphere within doors might occasionally be a trifle close, but Shaftesbury Avenue is a fine broad street, and has great advantages of situation. To Mr. Gammon's casual inquiry, Mrs. Bubb replied that she neither knew nor cared whither Polly had betaken herself.
"But Gammon's got the wisdom to keep himself safe, Robert; there's no one to blame for his wrinkles." "Gammon's a sheepskin old Time writes his nothings on," said Robert. "He's safe safe enough. An old hulk doesn't very easily manage to founder in the mud, and Gammon's been lying on the mud all his life."
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