MR. DINGWELL MAKES HIMSELF COMFORTABLE.
"AH!--_ho!_ you are Miss Rumble--hey?" said the old gentleman, fixing a
scrutinising glance from under his white eyebrows upon Sally Rumble, who
stood in the doorway, in wonder, not unmixed with alarm; for people who
stand every hour in presence of Giant Want, with his sword at their
throats, have lost their faith in fortune, and long ceased to expect a
benevolent fairy in any stranger who may present himself dubiously, and
anticipate rather an enemy. So, looking hard at the gentleman who stood
before the little fire, with his hat on, and the light of the solitary
dipt candle shining on his by no means pleasant countenance, she made
him a little frightened courtesy, and acknowledged that she was Sally
Rumble, though she could not tell what was to follow.
"I've been waiting; I came here to see you--pray, shut the door--from
two gentlemen, Jews whom you know--_friends_--don't be uneasy--friends
of _mine_, friends of _yours_--Mr. Goldshed and Mr. Levi, the kindest,
sweetest, sharpest fellows alive, and here's a note from them--you can
_read_?"
"Read! Law bless you--yes, sir," answered Sally.
"Thanks for the blessing: read the note; it's only to tell you I'm the
person they mentioned this morning, Mr. Dingwell. Are the rooms ready?
You can make me comfortable--eh?"
"In a humble way, sir," she answered, with a courtesy.
"Yes, of course; I'm a humble fellow, and--I hear you're a sensible
young lady. These little pitchers here, of course, have ears: I'll say
all that's necessary as we go up: there's a fellow with a cab at the
door, isn't there? Well, there's some little luggage of mine on it--we
must get it up stairs; give the Hamal something to lend a hand; but
first let me see my rooms."
"Yes, sir," said Sally, with another courtesy, not knowing what a Hamal
meant. And Mr. Dingwell, taking up his bag and stick, followed her in
silence, as with the dusky candle she led the way up the stairs.
She lighted a pair of candles in the drawing-room. There was some fire
in the grate. The rooms looked better than he had expected; there were
curtains, and an old Turkish carpet, and some shabby, and some handsome,
pieces of furniture.
"It will do, it will do--ha, ha, ha! How like a pawnbroker's store it
looks--no two things match in it; but it is not bad: those Jew fellows,
of course, did it? All this stuff isn't yours?" said Mr. Dingwell.
"Law bless you, no, sir," answered Sally, with a dismal smile and a
shake of her head.
"Thanks again for your blessing. And the bed-room?" inquired he.
She pushed open the door.
"Capital looking-glass," said he, standing before his
dressing-table--"cap-i-tal! if it weren't for that great seam across the
middle--ha, ha, ha! funny effect, by Jove! Is it colder than usual,
here?"
"No, sir, please; a nice evening."
"Devilish nice, by Allah! I'm cold through and through my great coat.
Will you please poke up that fire a little? Hey! what a grand bed we've
got! what tassels and ropes! and, by Jove, carved angels or _Cupids_--I
hope Cupids--on the foot-board!" he said, running the tip of his cane
along the profile of one of them. "They must have got this a wonderful
bargain. Hey! I hope no one died in it last week?"
"Oh, la! sir; Mr. Levi is a very pitickler gentleman; he wouldn't for
all he's worth."
"Oh! not he, I know; very particular."
Mr. Dingwell was holding the piece of damask curtain between his finger
and thumb, and she fancied was sniffing at it gently.
"Very particular, but I'm more so. We, English, are the dirtiest dogs in
the world. They ought to get the Turks to teach 'em to wash and be
clean. I travelled in the East once, for a commercial house, and know
something of them. Can you make coffee?"
"Yes, sir, please."
"Very strong?"
"Yes, sir, sure."
"_Very_, mind. As strong as the devil it must be, and as clear as--as
your conscience." He was getting out a tin case, as he spoke. "Here it
is. I got it in--I forget the name--a great place, near one of your
bridges. I suppose it's as good as any to be had in this place. Of
course it isn't _all_ coffee. We must go to the _heathen_ for that; but
if they haven't ground up toasted skeletons, or anything dirty in it,
I'm content. I'm told you can't eat or drink a mouthful here without
swallowing something you never bargained for. Everything is drugged.
Look at our Caiquejees! You have no such men in your padded
Horse-guards. And what do they live on? Why, a crust of brown bread and
a melon, and now and then a dish of pilauf! But it's good--it's
pure--it's what it calls itself. You d----d Christian cheats, you're an
opprobrium to commerce and civilisation; you're the greatest oafs on
earth, with all your police and spies. Why it's only to _will_ it, and
you _don't_; you let it go on. We are assuredly a beastly people!"
"Sugar, please, sir?"
"No, thank you."
"Take milk, sir?"
"Heaven forbid! Milk, indeed! I tell you what, Mrs.--What's your
name?--I tell you, if the Sultan had some of your great fellows--your
grocers, and bakers, and dairymen, and brewers, egad!--out there, he'd
have 'em on their ugly faces and bastinado their great feet into custard
pudding! I've seen fellows--and devilish glad I _was_ to see it, I can
tell you--screaming like stuck pigs, and their eyes starting out of
their heads, and their feet like bags of black currant jelly, ha, ha,
ha!--for a good deal less. Now, you see, ma'am, I have high notions of
honesty; and this tin case I'm going to give you will give me three
small cups of coffee, as strong as I've described, six times over; do
you understand?--six times three, eighteen; _eighteen_ small cups of
coffee; and don't let those pretty little foxes' cubs down stairs
meddle with it. Tell 'em I know what I'm about, and they'd better not,
ha, ha, ha! nor with anything that belongs to me, to the value of a
single piastre."
Miss Sarah Rumble was a good deal dismayed by the jubilant severity of
Mr. Dingwell's morals. She would have been glad had he been of a less
sharp and cruel turn of pleasantry. Her heart was heavy, and she wished
herself a happy deliverance, and had a vague alarm about the poor little
children's falling under suspicion, and of all that might follow. But
what could she do? Poverty is so powerless, and has so little time to
weigh matters maturely, or to prepare for any change; its hands are
always so full, and its stomach so empty, and its spirits so dull.
"I wish those d----d curtains were off the bed," and again they
underwent the same disgusting process; "and the bed-clothes, egad! They
purify nothing here. You know _nothing_ about _them_ either, of course?
No--but they would not like to kill me. _No_;--that would not do. Knock
their little game on the head, eh? I suppose it _is_ all right. What's
prevalent here now? What sort of--I mean what sort of _death_--fever,
small-pox, or scarlatina--eh? Much sickness going?"
"Nothink a'most, sir; a little measles among the children."
"No objection to that; it heads them down a bit, and does not trouble
us. But what among the _grown_ people?"
"Nothink to signify in the court here, for three months a'most."
"And _then_, ma'am, what _was_ it, pray? Give those to your boy" (they
were his boots); "let him rub 'em up, ma'am, he's not a bit too young to
begin; and, egad! he had better do 'em _well_, too;" and thrusting his
feet into a great pair of slippers, he reverted to his question--"What
sickness was _then_, ma'am, three months ago, here in this pleasant
little prison-yard of a place--hey?"
"Fever, please, sir, at No. 4. Three took it, please: two of 'em went to
hospital."
"And never walked out?"
"Don't know, indeed, sir--and one died, please, sir, in the court here,
and he left three little children."
"I hope they're gone away?"
"Yes, sir, please."
"Well, that's a release. Rest his soul, he's dead! as our immortal bard,
that says everything so much better than anyone else, says; and rest our
souls, _they're_ gone with their vile noise. So your bill of mortality
is not much to signify; and make that coffee--d'ye see?--this moment,
and let me have it as hot as--as the final abode of Dissenters and
Catholics--I see you believe in the Church Catechism--immediately, if
you please, to the next room."
So, with a courtesy, Sally Rumble tripped from the room, with the
coffee-case in her hand.