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Updated: June 29, 2025
Leadbatter doesn't reckon it an extra." "Oh no, sir," said Mary Ann seriously. "I'll tell her. Besides, she will be glad, because she don't like the canary she says its singing disturbs her. Her room is next to mine, you know, Mr. Lancelot." "But you said it doesn't sing much." "Please, sir, I I mean in summer," exclaimed Mary Ann in rosy confusion; "and and it'll soon be summer, sir."
"And so the vicar will find you in a pretty dress," he said at last. "No, sir." "But you promised Mrs. Leadbatter to " "I promised to buy a dress with her sovereign. But I shan't be here when the vicar comes. He can't come till the afternoon." "Why, where will you be?" he said, his heart beginning to beat fast. "With you," she replied, with a faint accent of surprise.
"You'll hexcoose me, sir, but I didn't bargen for that. I'm only a pore, honest, 'ard-workin' widder, and I noticed the last gas bill was 'eavier then hever since that black winter that took pore Mr. Leadbatter to 'is grave.
Leadbatter and her Rosie; he would write to that popular composer he had noticed his letter lying on the mantel-piece the other day and accept the fifty pounds, and whatever he did he could do anonymously, so that Peter wouldn't know, after all; he would escape from this wretched den and take a flat far away, somewhere where nobody knew him, and there he would sit and work, with Mary Ann for his housekeeper.
His affairs were found in hopeless confusion, and Mary Ann was considered lucky to be taken into the house of the well-to-do Mrs. Leadbatter, of London, the elder sister of a young woman who had nursed the vicar's wife. Mrs. Leadbatter had promised the vicar to train up the girl in the way a domestic should go.
The blood burnt in his veins as he thought of the cruelty of circumstance and the heartless honesty of her mistress. He made up his mind for the second time to give Mrs. Leadbatter a piece of his mind in the morning. "Well, go to bed now, my poor child," he said, "or you'll get no rest at all." "Yessir." She went obediently up a couple of stairs, then turned her head appealingly towards him.
Beneath the mingled emotions her words caused him was a sense of surprise at her recollection of his metaphor. "Hush! You're a silly little child," he repeated sternly. "Hush! or Mrs. Leadbatter will hear you." He went to the door and closed it tightly. "Listen, Mary Ann! Let me tell you once for all, that even if you were fool enough to be willing to go with me, I wouldn't take you with me.
Sometimes Lancelot's bell rang up Mrs. Leadbatter herself, but far more often merely Mary Ann. The first time Lancelot saw Mary Ann she was cleaning the steps. He avoided treading upon her, being kind to animals. For the moment she was merely a quadruped, whose head was never lifted to the stars. Her faded print dress showed like the quivering hide of some crouching animal.
Leadbatter," said the vicar, wiping his spectacles. As part of Baker's Terrace, Lancelot witnessed the departure from his window, for he had not left after all. Beethoven was barking his short snappy bark the whole time at the unwonted noises and the unfamiliar footsteps; he almost extinguished the canary, though that was clamorous enough. "Shut up, you noisy little devils!" growled Lancelot.
Why, busts out a-cryin' and sits on the damp stones, and sobs, and sulks, and stares at the suvrin in her hand as if I'd told her of a funeral instead of a fortune!" concluded Mrs. Leadbatter, alliteratively. "But you did her brother's death," said Lancelot. "That's what she's crying about." Mrs.
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