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Updated: June 6, 2025
"Jus' say your meanin', my pretty queen," said Mrs. Tawsey, as she stood at the sitting-room door, and watched Sylvia reading an ill-written letter. "It's twelve now, and I kin be back by five, arter a long, and enjiable tork with Matilder." "You certainly must go," replied Sylvia, handing back the letter. "I am sure your sister will be glad to see you, Debby."
"Then why 'ave that other got it?" "Sylvia's name wasn't mentioned, and Miss Krill is legally entitled as the legitimate daughter." "Call her what you like, she's a cat as her mother is afore her," said Mrs. Tawsey, indignantly, "and not young at that. Thirty and over, as I'm a livin' woman." "Oh, I don't think Miss Krill is as old as that."
But we never got on well, she being upsettin' and masterful, so arsk her to my weddin' I didn't, and denied relatives existing, which they do, she bein' alive ten years ago when she larst wrote." "You have not heard from her since?" asked Paul, inquisitively. "Sir, you may burn me or prison me or put me in pillaries," said Mrs. Tawsey, "but deceive you I won't.
Many a visit had Paul paid to that shop, and not always to buy books. Norman knew him very well, and, recognizing him in a fleeting look as he passed through the doorway, smiled weakly. Behind the counter stood Bart Tawsey, the lean underling, who was much sharper with buyers than was his master, but after a disappointed glance in his direction Paul addressed himself to the bookseller.
"Quite," answered Sylvia, stiffly, and wondering why the question was asked; "that is, the four washerwomen are in the place at the back. But Mrs. Tawsey went to your house to see her sister." "She arrived before I left," said Maud, coolly. "I saw them quarrelling in a most friendly way. Where is Mr. Beecot?" "I expect him later." "And Bart Tawsey who married your nurse?"
"You say dat," said Hokar, stolidly. "Yes, and I can prove it. The boy Tray and I can lay my hands on him saw you, also Bart Tawsey, the shopman. You left a handful of sugar, though why you did so instead of eating it, I can't understand." Hokar's face lighted up, and he showed his teeth disdainfully. "Oh, you Sahibs know nozzin'!" said he, spreading out his lean brown hands. "Ze shops ah, yis.
Me an' Tilly not bein' of 'appy matchin' don't correspond. We're Londing both," exclaimed Deborah, "father 'avin' bin a 'awker, but why she went to the country, or why I stopped in Gwynne Street, no one knows. And may I arsk, Mr. Beecot, why you arsk of that place?" "Your late master came from Christchurch, Mrs. Tawsey. Did you never hear him mention it?" "That I never did, for close he was, Mr.
But next morning he was unable to sit down to his desk as usual, and felt disinclined to go to the newspaper office, so he walked to Jubileetown to see how Sylvia was getting along. Deborah met him at the gate. "Well I never, Mr. Beecot," said Mrs. Tawsey, with her red arms akimbo in her usual attitude; "this is a sight for sore eyes. Won't my pretty be 'appy this day, say what you may.
"Again, I say it is good of you," said he with some irony; "but even were I out of the way, her nurse, Deborah Tawsey, would look after her. As matters stand, however, she will certainly become my wife as soon as we can afford a home." "You can afford it to-morrow," said Mrs. Krill, eagerly, "if you will accept my offer." "A home in America," said Paul, "and why?"
Knowing that she would soon be relieved from care, she told Bart Tawsey that they would be married at the same time as the young couple, and that the laundry would be started as soon as Mr. and Mrs. Beecot left for the Continent. Bart, of course, agreed he always did agree with Deborah and so everything was nicely arranged.
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