Miss Rodney's Leisure

by George Gissing

　　From The House of Cobwebs and Other Stories (1906).

　　A young woman of about eight-and-twenty, in tailor-made costume, withunadorned hat of brown felt, and irreproachable umbrella; a young woman whowalked faster than any one in Wattleborough, yet never looked hurried; whocrossed a muddy street seemingly without a thought for her skirts, yetsomehow was never splashed; who held up her head like one thoroughly athome in the world, and frequently smiled at her own thoughts. Those who didnot know her asked who she was; those who had already made her acquaintancetalked a good deal of the new mistress at the High School, by name MissRodney. In less than a week after her arrival in the town, her opinionswere cited and discussed by Wattleborough ladies. She brought with her theair of a University; she knew a great number of important people; she had aquiet decision of speech and manner which was found very impressive inWattleborough drawing-rooms. The headmistress spoke of her in high terms,and the incumbent of St. Luke's, who knew her family, reported that she hadalways been remarkably clever.A stranger in the town, Miss Rodney was recommended to the lodgings of Mrs.Ducker, a churchwarden's widow; but there she remained only for a week ortwo, and it was understood that she left because the rooms 'lackedcharacter.' Some persons understood this as an imputation on Mrs. Ducker,and were astonished; others, who caught a glimpse of Miss Rodney's meaning,thought she must be 'fanciful.' Her final choice of an abode gave generalsurprise, for though the street was one of those which Wattleboroughopinion classed as 'respectable,' the house itself, as Miss Rodney mighthave learnt from the incumbent of St. Luke's, in whose parish it wassituated, had objectionable features. Nothing grave could be allegedagainst Mrs. Turpin, who regularly attended the Sunday evening service; buther husband, a carpenter, spent far too much time at 'The Swan With TwoNecks'; and then there was a lodger, young Mr. Rawcliffe, concerning whomWattleborough had for some time been too well informed. Of such commentsupon her proceeding Miss Rodney made light; in the aspect of the rooms shefound a certain 'quaintness' which decidedly pleased her. 'And as for Mrs.Grundy,' she added, 'je m'en fiche? which certain ladies of culturedeclared to be a polite expression of contempt.Miss Rodney never wasted time, and in matters of business had cultivated anotable brevity. Her interview with Mrs. Turpin, when she engaged therooms, occupied perhaps a quarter of an hour; in that space of time she hadsufficiently surveyed the house, had learnt all that seemed necessary as toits occupants, and had stated in the clearest possible way her presentrequirements.'As a matter of course,' was her closing remark, 'the rooms will bethoroughly cleaned before I come in. At present they are filthy.'The landlady was too much astonished to reply; Miss Rodney's tones andbearing had so impressed her that she was at a loss for her usualloquacity, and could only stammer respectfully broken answers to whateverwas asked. Assuredly no one had ever dared to tell her that her lodgingswere 'filthy'--any ordinary person who had ventured upon such an insultwould have been overwhelmed with clamorous retort. But Miss Rodney, with apleasant smile and nod, went her way, and Mrs. Turpin stood at the opendoor gazing after her, bewildered 'twixt satisfaction and resentment.She was an easy-going, wool-witted creature, not ill-disposed, butsometimes mendacious and very indolent. Her life had always been what itwas now--one of slatternly comfort and daylong gossip, for she came of asmall tradesman's family, and had married an artisan who was always inwell-paid work. Her children were two daughters, who, at seventeen andfifteen, remained in the house with her doing little or nothing, thoughthey were supposed to 'wait upon the lodgers.' For some months only two ofthe four rooms Mrs. Turpin was able to let had been occupied, one by 'youngMr. Rawcliffe,' always so called, though his age was nearly thirty, but, aswas well known, he belonged to the 'real gentry,' and Mrs. Turpin held himin reverence on that account. No matter for his little weaknesses--of whichevil tongues, said Mrs. Turpin, of course made the most. He might beirregular in payment; he might come home 'at all hours,' and makeunnecessary noise in going upstairs; he might at times grumble when hischop was ill-cooked; and, to tell the truth, he might occasionally be 'alittle too free' with the young ladies--that is to say, with Mabel and LilyTurpin; but all these things were forgiven him because he was 'a realgentleman,' and spent just as little time as he liked daily in asolicitor's office.Miss Rodney arrived early on Saturday afternoon. Smiling and silent, shesaw her luggage taken up to the bedroom; she paid the cabman; she beckonedher landlady into the parlour, which was on the ground-floor front.'You haven't had time yet, Mrs. Turpin, to clean the rooms?'The landlady stammered a half-indignant surprise. Why, she and herdaughters had given the room a thorough turn out. It was done onlyyesterday, and hours had been devoted to it.'I see,' interrupted Miss Rodney, with quiet decision, 'that our notions ofcleanliness differ considerably. I'm going out now, and I shall not be backtill six o'clock. You will please to clean the bedroom before then. Thesitting-room shall be done on Monday.'And therewith Miss Rodney left the house.On her return she found the bedroom relatively clean, and, knowing that toomuch must not be expected at once, she made no comment. That night, as shesat reading at eleven o'clock, a strange sound arose in the back part ofthe house; it was a man's voice, hilariously mirthful and breaking intorude song. After listening for a few minutes, Miss Rodney rang her bell,and the landlady appeared.'Whose Voice is that I hear?''Voice, miss?''Who is shouting and singing?' asked Miss Rodney, in a disinterested tone.'I'm sorry if it disturbs you, miss. You'll hear no more.''Mrs. Turpin, I asked who it was.''My 'usband, miss. But--''Thank you. Good night, Mrs. Turpin.'There was quiet for an hour or more. At something after midnight, when MissRodney had just finished writing half a dozen letters, there sounded alatch-key in the front door, and some one entered. This person, whoever itwas, seemed to stumble about the passage in the dark, and at length bangedagainst the listener's door. Miss Rodney started up and flung the dooropen. By the light of her lamp she saw a moustachioed face, highly flushed,and grinning.'Beg pardon,' cried the man, in a voice which harmonised with his look andbearing. 'Infernally dark here; haven't got a match. You'reMiss--pardon--forgotten the name--new lodger. Oblige me with a light?Thanks awfully.'Without a word Miss Rodney took a match-box from her chimney-piece, enteredthe passage, entered the second parlour--that occupied by Mr.Rawcliffe--and lit a candle which stood on the table.'You'll be so kind,' she said, looking her fellow-lodger in the eyes, 'asnot to set the house on fire.''Oh, no fear,' he replied, with a high laugh. 'Quite accustomed. Thanksawfully, Miss--pardon--forgotten the name.'But Miss Rodney was back in her sitting-room, and had closed the door.Her breakfast next morning was served by Mabel Turpin, the elder daughter,a stupidly good-natured girl, who would fain have entered intoconversation. Miss Rodney replied to a question that she had slept well,and added that, when she rang her bell, she would like to see Mrs. Turpin.Twenty minutes later the landlady entered.'You wanted me, miss?' she began, in what was meant for a voice of dignityand reserve. 'I don't really wait on lodgers myself.''We'll talk about that another time, Mrs. Turpin. I wanted to say, first ofall, that you have spoiled a piece of good bacon and two good eggs. I musttrouble you to cook better than this.''I'm very sorry, miss, that nothing seems to suit you''Oh, we shall get right in time!' interrupted Miss Rodney cheerfully. 'Youwill find that I have patience. Then I wanted to ask you whether yourhusband and your lodger come home tipsy every night, or only onSaturdays?'The woman opened her eyes as wide as saucers, trying hard to lookindignant.'Tipsy, miss?''Well, perhaps I should have said "drunk"; I beg your pardon.''All I can say, miss, is that young Mr. Rawcliffe has never behaved himselfin this house excepting as the gentleman he is. You don't perhaps knowthat he belongs to a very high-connected family, miss, or I'm sure youwouldn't''I see,' interposed Miss Rodney. 'That accounts for it. But your husband.Is he highly connected?''I'm sure, miss, nobody could ever say that my 'usband took too much--notto say really too much. You may have heard him a bit merry, miss, butwhere's the harm of a Saturday night?''Thank you. Then it is only on Saturday nights that Mr. Turpin becomesmerry. I'm glad to know that. I shall get used to these little things.'But Mrs. Turpin did not feel sure that she would get used to her lodger.Sunday was spoilt for her by this beginning. When her husband woke from hisprolonged slumbers, and shouted for breakfast (which on this day of rest healways took in bed), the good woman went to him with downcast visage, andspoke querulously of Miss Rodney's behaviour.'I won't wait upon her, so there! The girls may do it, and if she isn'tsatisfied let her give notice. I'm sure I shan't be sorry. She's given memore trouble in a day than poor Mrs. Brown did all the months she was here.I won't be at her beck and call, so there!'Before night came this declaration was repeated times innumerable, and asit happened that Miss Rodney made no demand for her landlady's attendance,the good woman enjoyed a sense of triumphant self-assertion. On Mondaymorning Mabel took in the breakfast, and reported that Miss Rodney had madeno remark; but, a quarter of an hour later, the bell rang, and Mrs. Turpinwas summoned. Very red in the face, she obeyed. Having civilly greeted her,Miss Rodney inquired at what hour Mr. Turpin took his breakfast, and wasanswered with an air of surprise that he always left the house on week-daysat half-past seven.'In that case,' said Miss Rodney, 'I will ask permission to come into yourkitchen at a quarter to eight to-morrow morning, to show you how to frybacon and boil eggs. You mustn't mind. You know that teaching is myprofession.'Mrs. Turpin, nevertheless, seemed to mind very much. Her generallygood-tempered face wore a dogged sullenness, and she began to muttersomething about such a thing never having been heard of; but Miss Rodneypaid no heed, renewed the appointment for the next morning, and waved acheerful dismissal.Talking with a friend that day, the High School mistress gave a humorousdescription of her lodgings, and when the friend remarked that they must bevery uncomfortable, and that surely she would not stay there, Miss Rodneyreplied that she had the firmest intention of staying, and, what was more,of being comfortable.'I'm going to take that household in hand,' she added. 'The woman isfoolish, but can be managed, I think, with a little patience. I'm going totackle the drunken husband as soon as I see my way. And as for the highlyconnected gentleman whose candle I had the honour of lighting, I shall turnhim out.''You have your work set!' exclaimed the friend, laughing.'Oh, a little employment for my leisure! This kind of thing relieves themonotony of a teacher's life, and prevents one from growing old.'Very systematically she pursued her purpose of getting Mrs. Turpin 'inhand.' The two points at which she first aimed were the keeping clean ofher room and the decent preparation of her meals. Never losing temper,never seeming to notice the landlady's sullen mood, always using a tone oflegitimate authority, touched sometimes with humorous compassion, sheexacted obedience to her directions, but was well aware that at any momentthe burden of a new civilisation might prove too heavy for the Turpinfamily and cause revolt. A week went by; it was again Saturday, and MissRodney devoted a part of the morning (there being no school to-day) toculinary instruction. Mabel and Lily shared the lesson with their mother,but both young ladies wore an air of condescension, and grimaced at MissRodney behind her back. Mrs. Turpin was obstinately mute. The pride ofignorance stiffened her backbone and curled her lip.Miss Rodney's leisure generally had its task; though as a matter ofprinciple she took daily exercise, her walking or cycling was always anopportunity for thinking something out, and this afternoon, as she sped onwheels some ten miles from Wattleborough, her mind was busy with theproblem of Mrs. Turpin's husband. From her clerical friend of St. Luke'sshe had learnt that Turpin was at bottom a decent sort of man, ratherintelligent, and that it was only during the last year or two that he hadtaken to passing his evenings at the public-house. Causes for this declinecould be suggested. The carpenter had lost his only son, a lad of whom hewas very fond; the boy's death quite broke him down at the time, andperhaps he had begun to drink as a way for forgetting his trouble. Perhaps,too, his foolish, slatternly wife bore part of the blame, for his home hadalways been comfortless, and such companionship must, in the long-run, tellon a man. Reflecting upon this, Miss Rodney had an idea, and she took notime in putting it into practice. When Mabel brought in her tea, she askedthe girl whether her father was at home.'I think he is, miss,' was the distant reply--for Mabel had been bidden byher mother to 'show a proper spirit' when Miss Rodney addressed her.'You think so? Will you please make sure, and, if you are right, ask Mr.Turpin to be so kind as to let me have a word with him.'Startled and puzzled, the girl left the room. Miss Rodney waited, but noone came. When ten minutes had elapsed she rang the bell. A few minutesmore and there sounded a heavy foot in the passage; then a heavy knock atthe door, and Mr. Turpin presented himself. He was a short, sturdy man,with hair and beard of the hue known as ginger, and a face which told inhis favour. Vicious he could assuredly not be, with those honest grey eyes;but one easily imagined him weak in character, and his attitude as he stoodjust within the room, half respectful, half assertive, betrayed anembarrassment altogether encouraging to Miss Rodney. In her pleasantesttone she begged him to be seated.'Thank you, miss,' he replied, in a deep voice, which sounded huskily, buthad nothing of surliness; 'I suppose you want to complain about something,and I'd rather get it over standing.''I was not going to make any complaint, Mr. Turpin.''I'm glad to hear it, miss; for my wife wished me to say she'd done aboutall she could, and if things weren't to your liking, she thought it wouldbe best for all if you suited yourself in somebody else's lodgings.'It evidently cost the man no little effort to deliver his message; therewas a nervous twitching about his person, and he could not look Miss Rodneystraight in the face. She, observant of this, kept a very steady eye onhim, and spoke with all possible calmness.'I have not the least desire to change my lodgings, Mr. Turpin. Things aregoing on quite well. There is an improvement in the cooking, in thecleaning, in everything; and, with a little patience, I am sure we shallall come to understand one another. What I wanted to speak to you about wasa little practical matter in which you may be able to help me. I teachmathematics at the High School, and I have an idea that I might makecertain points in geometry easier to my younger girls if I coulddemonstrate them in a mechanical way. Pray look here. You see the shapes Ihave sketched on this piece of paper; do you think you could make them forme in wood?'The carpenter was moved to a show of reluctant interest. He took the paper,balanced himself now on one leg, now on the other, and said at length thathe thought he saw what was wanted. Miss Rodney, coming to his side,explained in more detail; his interest grew more active.'That's Euclid, miss?''To be sure. Do you remember your Euclid?''My own schooling never went as far as that,' he replied, in a mutteringvoice; 'but my Harry used to do Euclid at the Grammar School, and I gotinto a sort of way of doing it with him.'Miss Rodney kept a moment's silence; then quietly and kindly she asked oneor two questions about the boy who had died. The father answered in anawkward, confused way, as if speaking only by constraint.'Well, I'll see what I can do, miss,' he added abruptly, folding the paperto take away. 'You'd like them soon?''Yes. I was going to ask you, Mr. Turpin, whether you could do them thisevening. Then I should have them for Monday morning.'Turpin hesitated, shuffled his feet, and seemed to reflect uneasily; but hesaid at length that he 'would see about it,' and, with a rough bow, got outof the room. That night no hilarious sounds came from the kitchen. OnSunday morning, when Miss Rodney went into her sitting-room, she found onthe table the wooden geometrical forms, excellently made, just as shewished. Mabel, who came with breakfast, was bidden to thank her father, andto say that Miss Rodney would like to speak with him again, if his leisureallowed, after tea-time on Monday. At that hour the carpenter did not failto present himself, distrustful still, but less embarrassed. Miss Rodneypraised his work, and desired to pay for it. Oh! that wasn't worth talkingabout, said Turpin; but the lady insisted, and money changed hands. Thispiece of business transacted, Miss Rodney produced a Euclid, and askedTurpin to show her how far he had gone in it with his boy Harry. Thesubject proved fruitful of conversation. It became evident that thecarpenter had a mathematical bias, and could be readily interested in suchthings as geometrical problems. Why should he not take up the subjectagain?'Nay, miss,' replied Turpin, speaking at length quite naturally; 'Ishouldn't have the heart. If my Harry had lived'But Miss Rodney stuck to the point, and succeeded in making him promisethat he would get out the old Euclid and have a look at it in his leisuretime. As he withdrew, the man had a pleasant smile on his honest face.On the next Saturday evening the house was again quiet.Meanwhile, relations between Mrs. Turpin and her lodger were becoming lessstrained. For the first time in her life the flabby, foolish woman had todo with a person of firm will and bright intelligence; not being vicious oftemper, she necessarily felt herself submitting to domination, and darklysurmised that the rule might in some way be for her good. All the sluggardand the slattern in her, all the obstinacy of lifelong habits, hung backfrom the new things which Miss Rodney was forcing upon her acceptance, butshe was no longer moved by active resentment. To be told that she cookedbadly had long ceased to be an insult, and was becoming merely a worryingtruism. That she lived in dirt there seemed no way of denying, and thoughevery muscle groaned, she began to look upon the physical exertion ofdusting and scrubbing as part of her lot in life. Why she submitted, Mrs.Turpin could not have told you. And, as was presently to be seen, therewere regions of her mind still unconquered, instincts of resistance whichyet had to come into play.For, during all this time, Miss Rodney had had her eye on herfellow-lodger, Mr. Rawcliffe, and the more she observed this gentleman, themore resolute she became to turn him out of the house; but it was plain toher that the undertaking would be no easy one. In the landlady's eyes Mr.Rawcliffe, though not perhaps a faultless specimen of humanity, conferredan honour on her house by residing in it; the idea of giving him notice toquit was inconceivable to her. This came out very clearly in the firstfrank conversation which Miss Rodney held with her on the topic. Ithappened that Mr. Rawcliffe had passed an evening at home, in the companyof his friends. After supping together, the gentlemen indulged in merrimentwhich, towards midnight, became uproarious. In the morning Mrs. Turpinmumbled a shamefaced apology for this disturbance of Miss Rodney's repose.'Why don't you take this opportunity and get rid of him?' asked the lodgerin her matter-of-fact tone.'Oh, miss!''Yes, it's your plain duty to do so. He gives your house a bad character;he sets a bad example to your husband; he has a bad influence on yourdaughters.''Oh! miss, I don't think''Just so, Mrs. Turpin; you don't think. If you had, you would long agohave noticed that his behaviour to those girls is not at all such as itshould be. More than once I have chanced to hear bits of talk, when eitherMabel or Lily was in his sitting-room, and didn't like the tone of it. Inplain English, the man is a blackguard.'Mrs. Turpin gasped.'But, miss, you forget what family he belongs to.''Don't be a simpleton, Mrs. Turpin. The blackguard is found in every rankof life. Now, suppose you go to him as soon as he gets up, and quietly givehim notice. You've no idea how much better you would feel after it.'But Mrs. Turpin trembled at the suggestion. It was evident that no ordinaryargument or persuasion would bring her to such a step. Miss Rodney put thematter aside for the moment.She had found no difficulty in getting information about Mr. Rawcliffe. Itwas true that he belonged to a family of some esteem in the Wattleboroughneighbourhood, but his father had died in embarrassed circumstances, andhis mother was now the wife of a prosperous merchant in another town. Tohis stepfather Rawcliffe owed an expensive education and two or threestarts in life. He was in his second year of articles to a Wattle-boroughsolicitor, but there seemed little probability of his ever earning a livingby the law, and reports of his excesses which reached the stepfather's earshad begun to make the young man's position decidedly precarious. Theincumbent of St. Luke's, whom Rawcliffe had more than once insulted, tookmuch interest in Miss Rodney's design against this common enemy; he couldnot himself take active part in the campaign, but he never met the HighSchool mistress without inquiring what progress she had made. The conquestof Turpin, who now for several weeks had kept sober, and spent his eveningsin mathematical study, was a most encouraging circumstance; but Miss Rodneyhad no thought of using her influence over her landlady's husband to assailRawcliffe's position. She would rely upon herself alone, in this as in allother undertakings.Only by constant watchfulness and energy did she maintain her control overMrs. Turpin, who was ready at any moment to relapse into her old slatternlyways. It was not enough to hold the ground that had been gained; there mustbe progressive conquest; and to this end Miss Rodney one day broached asubject which had already been discussed between her and her clerical ally.'Why do you keep both your girls at home, Mrs. Turpin?' she asked.'What should I do with them, miss? I don't hold with sending girls intoshops, or else they've an aunt in Birmingham, who's manageress of--''That isn't my idea,' interposed Miss Rodney quietly. 'I have been asked ifI knew of a girl who would go into a country-house not far from here assecond housemaid, and it occurred to me that Lily--'A sound of indignant protest escaped the landlady, which Miss Rodney,steadily regarding her, purposely misinterpreted.'No, no, of course, she is not really capable of taking such a position.But the lady of whom I am speaking would not mind an untrained girl, whocame from a decent house. Isn't it worth thinking of?'Mrs. Turpin was red with suppressed indignation, but as usual she could notlook her lodger defiantly in the face.'We're not so poor, miss,' she exclaimed, 'that we need send our daughtersinto service,''Why, of course not, Mrs. Turpin, and that's one of the reasons why Lilymight suit this lady.'But here was another rock of resistance which promised to give Miss Rodneya good deal of trouble. The landlady's pride was outraged, and after themanner of the inarticulate she could think of no adequate reply save thatwhich took the form of personal abuse. Restrained from this by more thanone consideration, she stood voiceless, her bosom heaving.'Well, you shall think it over,' said Miss Rodney, 'and we'll speak of itagain in a day or two.'Mrs. Turpin, without another word, took herself out of the room.Save for that singular meeting on Miss Rodney's first night in the house,Mr. Rawcliffe and the energetic lady had held no intercourse whatever.Their parlours being opposite each other on the ground floor, theynecessarily came face to face now and then, but the High School mistressbehaved as though she saw no one, and the solicitor's clerk, after one ortwo attempts at polite formality, adopted a like demeanour. The man'sproximity caused his neighbour a ceaseless irritation; of all objectionabletypes of humanity, this loafing and boozing degenerate was, to Miss Rodney,perhaps the least endurable; his mere countenance excited her animosity,for feebleness and conceit, things abhorrent to her, were legible in everyline of the trivial features; and a full moustache, evidently subjected totraining, served only as emphasis of foppish imbecility. 'I could beathim!' she exclaimed more than once within herself, overcome withcontemptuous wrath, when she passed Mr. Rawcliffe. And, indeed, had itbeen possible to settle the matter thus simply, no doubt Mr. Rawcliffe'srooms would very soon have been vacant.The crisis upon which Miss Rodney had resolved came about, quiteunexpectedly, one Sunday evening. Mrs. Turpin and her daughters had gone,as usual, to church, the carpenter had gone to smoke a pipe with aneighbour, and Mr. Rawcliffe believed himself alone in the house. But MissRodney was not at church this evening; she had a headache, and after tealay down in her bedroom for a while. Soon impatient of repose, she got upand went to her parlour. The door, to her surprise, was partly open;entering--the tread of her slippered feet was noiseless--she beheld anastonishing spectacle. Before her writing-table, his back turned to her,stood Mr. Rawcliffe, engaged in the deliberate perusal of a letter which hehad found there. For a moment she observed him; then she spoke.'What business have you here?'Rawcliffe gave such a start that he almost jumped from the ground. Hisface, as he put down the letter and turned, was that of a gibbering idiot;his lips moved, but no sound came from them.'What are you doing in my room?' demanded Miss Rodney, in her severesttones.'I really beg your pardon--I really beg--''I suppose this is not the first visit with which you have honoured me?''The first--indeed--I assure you--the very first! A foolish curiosity; Ireally feel quite ashamed of myself; I throw myself upon your indulgence.'The man had become voluble; he approached Miss Rodney smiling in a sicklyway, his head bobbing forward.'It's something,' she replied, 'that you have still the grace to feelashamed. Well, there's no need for us to discuss this matter; it can have,of course, only one result. To-morrow morning you will oblige me by givingnotice to Mrs. Turpin--a week's notice.''Leave the house?' exclaimed Rawcliffe.'On Saturday next--or as much sooner as you like.''Oh! but really--''As you please,' said Miss Rodney, looking him sternly in the face. 'Inthat case I complain to the landlady of your behaviour, and insist on hergetting rid of you. You ought to have been turned out long ago. You are anuisance, and worse than a nuisance. Be so good as to leave the room.'Rawcliffe, his shoulders humped, moved towards the door; but beforereaching it he stopped and said doggedly--'I can't give notice.''Why not?''I owe Mrs. Turpin money.''Naturally. But you will go, all the same.'A vicious light flashed into the man's eyes.'If it comes to that, I shall not go!''Indeed?' said Miss Rodney calmly and coldly. 'We will see about it. In themeantime, leave the room, sir!'Rawcliffe nodded, grinned, and withdrew.Late that evening there was a conversation between Miss Rodney and Mrs.Turpin. The landlady, though declaring herself horrified at what hadhappened, did her best to plead for Mr. Rawcliffe's forgiveness, and wouldnot be brought to the point of promising to give him notice.'Very well, Mrs. Turpin,' said Miss Rodney at length, 'either he leaves thehouse or I do.'Resolved, as she was, not to quit her lodgings, this was a bolddeclaration. A meeker spirit would have trembled at the possibility thatMrs. Turpin might be only too glad to free herself from a subjection which,again and again, had all but driven her to extremities. But Miss Rodney hadthe soul of a conqueror; she saw only her will, and the straight way to it.'To tell you the truth, miss,' said the landlady, sore perplexed, 'he'srather backward with his rent--''Very foolish of you to have allowed him to get into your debt. Theprobability is that he would never pay his arrears; they will onlyincrease, the longer he stays. But I have no more time to spare at present.Please understand that by Saturday next it must be settled which of yourlodgers is to go.'Mrs. Turpin had never been so worried. The more she thought of thepossibility of Miss Rodney's leaving the house, the less did she like it.Notwithstanding Mr. Rawcliffe's 'family,' it was growing clear to her that,as a stamp of respectability and a source of credit, the High Schoolmistress was worth more than the solicitor's clerk. Then there was theastonishing change that had come over Turpin, owing, it seemed, to his talkwith Miss Rodney; the man spent all his leisure time in 'making shapes andfiguring'--just as he used to do when poor Harry was at the Grammar School.If Miss Rodney disappeared, it seemed only too probable that Turpin wouldbe off again to 'The Swan With Two Necks.' On the other hand, the thoughtof 'giving notice' to Mr. Rawcliffe caused her something like dismay; howcould she have the face to turn a real gentleman out of her house? Yes, butwas it not true that she had lost money by him--and stood to lose more? Shehad never dared to tell her husband of Mr. Rawcliffe's frequentshortcomings in the matter of weekly payments. When the easy-going youngman smiled and nodded, and said, 'It'll be all right, you know, Mrs.Turpin; you can trust me, I hope,' she could do nothing but acquiesce.And Mr. Rawcliffe was more and more disposed to take advantage of thisweakness. If she could find courage to go through with the thing, perhapsshe would be glad when it was over.Three days went by. Rawcliffe led an unusually quiet and regular life.There came the day on which his weekly bill was presented. Mrs. Turpinbrought it in person at breakfast, and stood with it in her hand, an imageof vacillation. Her lodger made one of his familiar jokes; she laughedfeebly. No; the words would not come to her lips; she was physicallyincapable of giving him notice.'By the bye, Mrs. Turpin,' said Rawcliffe in an offhand way, as he glancedat the bill, 'how much exactly do I owe you?'Pleasantly agitated, his landlady mentioned the sum.'Ah! I must settle that. I tell you what, Mrs. Turpin. Let it stand overfor another month, and we'll square things up at Christmas. Will that suityou?'And, by way of encouragement, he paid his week's account on the spot,without a penny of deduction. Mrs. Turpin left the room in greaterembarrassment than ever.Saturday came. At breakfast Miss Rodney sent for the landlady, who made atimid appearance just within the room.'Good morning, Mrs. Turpin. What news have you for me? You know what Imean?'The landlady took a step forward, and began babbling excuses, explanations,entreaties. She was coldly and decisively interrupted.'Thank you, Mrs. Turpin, that will do. A week to-day I leave.'With a sound which was half a sob and half grunt Mrs. Turpin bounced fromthe room. It was now inevitable that she should report the state of thingsto her husband, and that evening half an hour's circumlocution brought herto the point. Which of the two lodgers should go? The carpenter paused,pipe in mouth, before him a geometrical figure over which he had puzzledfor a day or two, and about which, if he could find courage, he wished toconsult the High School mistress. He reflected for five minutes, anduttered an unhesitating decision. Mr. Rawcliffe must go. Naturally, hiswife broke into indignant clamour, and the debate lasted for an hour ortwo; but Turpin could be firm when he liked, and he had solid reasons forpreferring to keep Miss Rodney in the house. At four o'clock Mrs. Turpincrept softly to the sitting-room where her offended lodger was quietlyreading.'I wanted just to say, miss, that I'm willing to give Mr. Rawcliffe noticenext Wednesday.''Thank you, Mrs. Turpin,' was the cold reply. 'I have already taken otherrooms.'The landlady gasped, and for a moment could say nothing. Then she besoughtMiss Rodney to change her mind. Mr. Rawcliffe should leave, indeed heshould, on Wednesday week. But Miss Rodney had only one reply; she hadfound other rooms that suited her, and she requested to be left in peace.At eleven Mr. Rawcliffe came home. He was unnaturally sober, for Saturdaynight, and found his way into the parlour without difficulty. There in aminute or two he was confronted by his landlady and her husband: theyclosed the door behind them, and stood in a resolute attitude.'Mr. Rawcliffe,' began Turpin, 'you must leave these lodgings, sir, onWednesday next.''Hullo! what's all this about?' cried the other. 'What do you mean,Turpin?'The carpenter made plain his meaning; spoke of Miss Rodney's complaint, ofthe irregular payment (for his wife, in her stress, had avowed everything),and of other subjects of dissatisfaction; the lodger must go, there was anend of it. Rawcliffe, putting on all his dignity, demanded the legal week'snotice; Turpin demanded the sum in arrear. There was an exchange of highwords, and the interview ended with mutual defiance. A moment after Turpinand his wife knocked at Miss Rodney's door, for she was still in herparlour. There followed a brief conversation, with the result that MissRodney graciously consented to remain, on the understanding that Mr.Rawcliffe left the house not later than Wednesday.Enraged at the treatment he was receiving, Rawcliffe loudly declared thathe would not budge. Turpin warned him that if he had made no preparationsfor departure on Wednesday he would be forcibly ejected, and the doorclosed against him.'You haven't the right to do it,' shouted the lodger. 'I'll sue you fordamages.''And I,' retorted the carpenter, 'will sue you for the money you owe me!'The end could not be doubtful. Rawcliffe, besides being a poor creature,knew very well that it was dangerous for him to get involved in a scandal;his stepfather, upon whom he depended, asked but a fair excuse for cuttinghim adrift, and more than one grave warning had come from his mother duringthe past few months. But he enjoyed a little blustering, and even atbreakfast-time on Wednesday his attitude was that of contemptuous defiance.In vain had Mrs. Turpin tried to coax him with maternal suavity; in vainhad Mabel and Lily, when serving his meals, whispered abuse of Miss Rodney,and promised to find some way of getting rid of her, so that Rawcliffemight return. In a voice loud enough to be heard by his enemy in theopposite parlour, he declared that no 'cat of a school teacher should getthe better of him.' As a matter of fact, however, he arranged on Tuesdayevening to take a couple of cheaper rooms just outside the town, andordered a cab to come for him at eleven next morning.'You know what the understanding is, Mr. Rawcliffe,' said Turpin, puttinghis head into the room as the lodger sat at breakfast. 'I'm a man of myword.''Don't come bawling here!' cried the other, with a face of scorn.And at noon the house knew him no more.Miss Rodney, on that same day, was able to offer her landlady a new lodger.She had not spoken of this before, being resolved to triumph by mere forceof will.'The next thing,' she remarked to a friend, when telling the story, 'is topack off one of the girls into service. I shall manage it by Christmas,'and she added with humorous complacency, 'it does one good to be making asort of order in one's own little corner of the world.'

　　THE END.* * * * * * * * * * * *