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Updated: August 14, 2024
Leaping over the broken fence, she had just cleared the gap as the broom-handle, missing her, came forcibly down upon the rail, and was snapped in sunder by the blow. Here was a new vexation. Brindle had not only escaped scot-free, but the broom, a new one, bought only the week before, was broken. "It's a plaguy shame," said Mrs. Mudge, angrily.
Everybody had a suggestion now. The cook advocated drowning. The parlour-maid favoured the idea of hitting the prisoner with a broom-handle. Wrench, eyeing the struggling apron disapprovingly, mentioned that Mr Pickering had bought a revolver that morning. 'Put him in the coal-cellar, said Lady Wetherby. Wrench was more far-seeing.
Four broken chairs and a broom-handle savoured of a witch's frolic. If this woman had told the truth in a room well-furnished she would have been scorned. The fashion for a garret had set in, and garret it must be. In her new chambers the first fortune-teller waited in vain; for it was the outward sign alone that brought customers, and the sign was poverty.
The eye she was shading was black from a recent blow, a present from her husband, Sam the carter, who came home for his tea, fighting drunk, as regular as clockwork. "I thought I 'eard Sam snorin' after tea," said Mrs Jones. "Yes, 'e was; but 'e woke up about twelve, an' give me beans 'cause I'd let 'im sleep till the pubs was shut." "An' yer laid 'im out wi' the broom-handle, I s'pose?"
Aurora was sweeping. A burst of laughter rang; the broom-handle knocked on the floor. "Yes, I'm sweeping," she cried. "Come right in! You find me practising one of my accomplishments. I can't play the piano, I can't speak languages, I can't paint bunches of flowers on black velvet; but I can sweep, I can cook, I can wash dishes or babies, one just as well as the other, and I can nurse the sick."
His second cousin, Lena, the Cowleses' "hired girl," was opening the door, stiff and uncomfortable in a cap, a black dress, and a small frilly apron that dangled on her boniness like a lace kerchief pinned on a broom-handle. Murray Cowles rushed up. He was in evening clothes! Behind Murray, Mrs. Cowles greeted Carl with thawed majesty: "We are so glad to have you, Carl.
The New Year has come, and to greet its arrival such a clashing of bells, such an outburst of strange and jangling sounds as fairly deafened the listening ears. Molly, grinning from ear to ear, was running the broom-handle up and down the row of bells outside the servants' hall. Mike was belabouring the gong as if his life depended on his exertions.
Sir Francis Varney had met them; he stood there with a staff something he had found about the house not quite so long as a broom-handle, but somewhat thicker and heavier, being made of stout ash.
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