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Updated: June 11, 2025
A few moments later, when she had to use her hands in order to prevent Jill from jumping on to her lap, she did not hear a sound. Some quarter of an hour later, Mrs Gowler descended the stairs. "A quick job that," she remarked to Mavis, who did not make any reply. "Let's 'ope you'll be as sharp," added the woman, as she disappeared into the kitchen.
Mrs Gowler waxed eloquent on the subject of her Oscar, to whom she was apparently devoted. She was just telling Mavis how he liked to amuse himself by torturing the cat, when a sharp cry penetrated into the kitchen, as if coming from the neighbourhood of the front door. "Bella's coming on," she said, as she caught up an apron before leaving the kitchen.
Mrs Gowler sat impassively on the only chair in the room, while Jill watched her mistress with frightened eyes from a corner. Now and again, when a specially violent pain tormented her body, Mavis would grip the head rail of the bed with her hands, or bite Perigal's ring, which she wore suspended from her neck.
"What does what mean?" replied Mrs Gowler, bridling. "Keeping me waiting like this." "Wot do you expect for wot you're payin' brass banns and banners?" "I don't expect impertinence from you!" cried Mavis. "Imperence! imperence! And oo's Mrs Kenrick to give 'erself such airs! And before my Oscar too!" "Listen to me," said Mavis. "I wonder you don't send for your 'usband to go for me." "But "
"Wait till you see her," cried Mrs Gowler, as if her coming were a matter of rare good fortune. Mavis had not long to wait. In a few moments a tall, spare, masculine-looking woman strode into the room. Mrs Bale's red face seemed to be framed in spacious black bonnet strings. Mavis thought that she had never seen such a long upper lip as this woman had.
Whenever she saw Mavis, however, she persistently urged her to board out her baby with one of the several desirable motherly females she was in a position to recommend. Mrs Gowler pointed out the many advantages of thus disposing of Mavis's boy till such time as would be more convenient for mother and son to live together.
About one, the door was thrust open, and Mrs Gowler, hot and perspiring, and wearing her bonnet, came into the room, carrying a plate, fork, knife, and spoon in one hand and a steaming pot in the other. "'Elp yerself!" cried Mrs Gowler, as she threw the plate and spoon upon the bed and thrust the pot beneath Mavis's nose. "It's coming on," said Mavis. "You needn't tell me that.
"Wait till it's ready," retorted Mrs Gowler, angry at her hospitality being refused. "It ought to be ready. What else did I arrange to come for?" "You can go up if you like, but Mrs May is bathing her baby, an' there's no room to move." "Does does that mean that you haven't given me a room to myself?" cried Mavis. "Wot more d'ye expect for wot you're payin'?" Mavis made up her mind.
An' I'll be pleased to show you what you call 'my room' when I've given my Oscar 'is supper," shouted Mrs Gowler, as she sailed into the kitchen, followed by her gibbering son, who twice turned to stare at Mavis. Alone in the unlit, stuffy passage, Mavis whispered her troubles to Jill. Tears came to her eyes, which she held back by thinking persistently of the loved one.
"But that's tellin's," continued Mrs Gowler, looking greedily at Mavis from the depths of her little eyes. "Is it?" "Babies is little cusses; noisy, squally little brats." "Not one's own." "That's what I say. I love the little dears. Gawd's messages I call them. All the same, they're there, as you might say. An' yer can't explain them away." "True," smiled Mavis.
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