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Updated: June 20, 2025
Povey had accepted; he was now on their hands. Sophia's monstrous, sly operation in Mr. Povey's mouth did not cause either of them much alarm, Constance having apparently recovered from the first shock of it. They had discussed it in the kitchen while preparing the teas; Constance's extraordinarily severe and dictatorial tone in condemning it had led to a certain heat.
All these things together proved better than the evidence of barometers how the weather nipped. Mr. Scales came about ten o'clock. Instead of going to Mr. Povey's counter, he walked boldly to Constance's corner, and looked over the boxes, smiling and saluting. Both the girls candidly delighted in his visit. Both blushed; both laughed without knowing why they laughed. Mr.
Povey's mittened hands were blue and red; but, like many shopkeepers, he had apparently grown almost insensible to vagaries of temperature. Although the fire was immense and furious, its influence, owing to the fact that the mediaeval grate was designed to heat the flue rather than the room, seemed to die away at the borders of the fender.
Povey's acute jealousy, she had, temporarily at any rate, slaked the fire, banked it down, and hidden it; and since then no word had passed as to the state of Constance's heart. In the great peril to be feared from Mr. Scales, Constance's heart had been put aside as a thing that could wait; so one puts aside the mending of linen when earthquake shocks are about. Mrs.
Scales chatting with Constance. All her self-possession instantly returned to her, and she joined them with a rather mocking smile. After Mr. Povey's strange summons had withdrawn Constance from the corner, Mr. Scales's tone had changed; it had thrilled her. "You are YOU," it had said, "there is you and there is the rest of the universe!"
Constance inquired innocently. There was a dark flush on Mr. Povey's face. "If you wish to know," said he in a hard voice, "she hasn't asked for you and she doesn't want you." He turned his back on her, and retreated into his lair. "Then what ?" she began, puzzled. He fronted her. "Haven't you been gabbling long enough with that jackanapes?" he spit at her. There were tears in his eyes.
Povey, this is not like you," said Mrs. Baines, who, on her way into the shop, had discovered the Indispensable in the cutting-out room. It is true that the cutting-out room was almost Mr. Povey's sanctum, whither he retired from time to time to cut out suits of clothes and odd garments for the tailoring department.
Later, she heard movements on the house-stairs, and the familiar whining creak of the door at the foot thereof. She skipped lightly to the door of the bedroom. "Good-night, Mr. Povey. I hope you'll be able to sleep." Constance's voice! "It will probably come on again." Mr. Povey's voice, pessimistic! Then the shutting of doors. It was almost dark.
The tip of Mr. Povey's tongue made a careful voyage of inspection all round the right side of his mouth. "Oh yes!" he said, as if solemnly accepting the inevitable. "I've swallowed it!" Sophia's face was now scarlet; she seemed to be looking for some place to hide it. Constance could not think of anything to say. "That tooth has been loose for two years," said Mr.
Baines could rely utterly on Constance not to be led away by the dandiacal charms of Mr. Povey; and it must be said that she could not possibly have foreseen the effect on the situation of Mr. Povey's character. Mr. Povey, attending to his customer, had noticed the bright smile of Constance on the traveller, and his heart did not like it. And when he saw the lively gestures of a Mr.
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