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Updated: May 21, 2025
Who more mirthful now than Totty Nancarrow! With subdued gossip and laughter all ran up the narrow staircase and into Totty's room. A fire had first of all to be lit; Totty was a deft hand at that; not a girl in Lambeth could start a blaze and have her kettle boiling in sharper time on a cold dark morning. But, after all, there would not be bread enough. Tilly Roach would be off for that.
Totty's room was dark and, of course, fireless; but she cared neither for the darkness nor the cold. She groped her way to a chair and sat very still. It was a blessed relief to be here, to be safe from Gilbert and Lyddy for ever so short a time, to sit and clasp the darkness like something loved. She was making up her mind to tell Totty everything. Someone she must tell someone.
Next to Bessy, just within the church door, there were the Poyser children, peeping round the corner of the pews to get a sight of the mysterious ceremony; Totty's face wearing an unusual air of anxiety at the idea of seeing cousin Dinah come back looking rather old, for in Totty's experience no married people were young.
'It tells you no end of things see here! 'How to bewitch your enemies, 'How to render yourself invisible, 'How to grow young again, 'How to read sealed letters, 'How to see at long distances, and heaps more. 'Price one and sixpence, or, post free, twenty stamps. 'Don't be a fool and waste your money! was Totty's uncompromising advice. 'It's only sillies believes things like that.
'So the day's coming, Thyrza. Thyrza played with the ends of a small boa which was about her neck. She had no reply. Her tongue refused to utter a sound. 'What's the matter? Thyrza's hand fell, she touched the sewing that was on Totty's lap. Then she touched Totty's hand. 'Will you tell me about about Mr. Ackroyd?
Both he and all his people were anticipating pleasant feasts of maize-bread, and "hominy," with "mash and milk," and various other dishes, that with Totty's skill could be manufactured out of the Indian corn. About this time an incident occurred that nearly deprived them, not only of their whole plot of maize-plants, but also of their valuable housekeeper, Totty. It was as follows:
"It hasn't hurt it a bit; there was a cloth over it, and I like it all the better for the marks of Totty's little feet, bless 'em!" and Christie cuddled the culprit with one hand while she revealed the damaged delicacy with the other, wondering inwardly what evil star was always in the ascendant when Mrs. Wilkins made cake.
Yet it was very strange that he should be going to see Mr. Bunce just at the same time that Thyrza was there, and in Totty's absence too. What to think of Mr. Egremont? There was the central question.
But this slight weapon would not have served much longer, and Totty's fate that of being torn to pieces would soon have been sealed, had not four horsemen, or rather "quagga-men," at that moment galloped up to her rescue. These were the hunters returning from the chase; and a volley from their guns at once scattered the ugly chacmas, and sent them howling back to their caves.
In spite of the unalterable love which united them, their points of unlikeness not seldom brought about debates which Lydia's quick temper sometimes aggravated to a quarrel. So Lydia finished her marketing and turned homewards with a perturbed mind. But the other two walked, with gossip and laughter, to Totty's lodgings, which were in Newport Street, an offshoot of Paradise Street.
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