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Updated: May 17, 2025
When Miss Nippett had put on her goloshes, bonnet, and cloak, and Mavis her things, Mr Poulter accompanied them to the door. "I live in the 'Bush': where do you?" asked Miss Nippett of Mavis. "Kiva Road, Hammersmith." "Then we go different ways. Good night, Mr Poulter; good night, Miss Keeves." Mavis wished her and Mr Poulter good night.
This reminds me of beef, and beef reminds me of Christmas. It is now the second Sunday in Advent, and there is a subject which you will remember we had agreed to discuss this week. This important subject was a proposal by Mrs. Mudge that Miss Toller should dine with them on Christmas Day. 'You, Mrs. Poulter, said Mr. Goacher, 'are of opinion that we should not invite her? 'Certainly.
Mavis, with a great fear, noted the failing light in her friend's eyes, but was convinced that, for all the weakening of the woman's physical processes, she desired as ardently as ever a sight of Mr Poulter before she died. A few minutes later, a greyness crept into Miss Nippett's face. Mavis repressed an inclination to fly from the room.
She waited some minutes longer, till at last her friend excitedly re-entered to say, in the manner of one conveying information of much moment: "Mr Poulter is reelly coming on purpose to see you." Mavis nerved herself for the ordeal of meeting the dancing-master. When, a few moments later, Mr Poulter came into the room, his appearance surprised Mavis.
Mavis explained her errand, but had some difficulty in convincing even kindly Mr Poulter of Miss Nippett's ambitious leanings: in the course of years, he had come to look on his devoted accompanist very much as he regarded "Turpsichor" who stood by the front door.
The jar of this interruption, the discord of Tom's tones coming across the notes to which Philip was vibrating in soul and body, would have been enough to unhinge his temper, even if there had been no question of Poulter the drilling-master; and Tom, in the hurry of seizing something to say to prevent Mr.
Then, although she feared to believe the evidence of her ears, a knock was heard at the door. After what seemed an interval of centuries, she heard footsteps ascending the stairs. Mavis glanced at Miss Nippett. She was horrified to see that her friend was heedless of Mr Poulter's possible approach. She moved quickly to the door. To her unspeakable relief, Mr Poulter stood outside.
Poulter leisurely scanned every paragraph from the top of the first page down to the bottom of the last, suggested that the paper should be divided, as other people might wish to see it. Mrs. Poulter dropped her eye-glass and handed Mrs. Mudge the outside sheet, with the remark that if she would but have intimated politely that she was in a hurry, she could have had it before.
The two women walked together to the gate, when Miss Nippett hobbled off to the left. As Mavis turned to the right, she glanced at Mr Poulter, who was still standing on the steps; he was gazing raptly at "Turpsichor."
Poulter had been reading something in the newspaper the day before about the Panama Canal. Miss E. 'Straits of Panama! but she checked herself when she saw that not a muscle moved on anybody's face. 'Now, my dear Mrs. Poulter, I assure you I have friends who dine in the best society, and I'll be bound they never heard of the Straits of Panama. Mrs.
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