Source:http://lang.nagoya-u.ac.jp/~matsuoka/index.html
Technically speaking, Mrs. Bloggs was full; that is to say, she had packed her house
with twice as many lodgers as a regard for health or comfort would have
permitted her to receive. For a holiday refuge, it had no striking advantages;
from the windows nothing was visible but a street precisely resembling those of
poorer Kennington, and the beach was half a mile away. Mrs. Bloggs
owed something of this prosperity to her niece, a girl only twelve years old,
but rich in the peculiar gifts which go to make a perfect landlady. When a
vacancy occurred, Serena -- that was the girl's happy name -- strolled down to
Yarmouth Bridge, and met the swarm of people constantly pouring forth from the
railway station. She had washed her face, and put on an attractive little pinafore,
so that homely people in quest of lodgings readily gave ear to Serena's
invitation. At other times Serena assisted her aunt in keeping the house dirty,
in pilfering the lodgers groceries, and spoiling food
given to be cooked. Her infancy had been passed in Camden Town, which was also
Mrs. Bloggs's original abode. Achieving independence
at the age of nine, she consulted health, pleasure, and profit by taking a
London engagement (as 'general') for the gloomy months, and, in the season of
light and joy, transferring herself to her relative's at Yarmouth. But Serena
was not wholly satisfied with the terms granted her by Mrs. Bloggs;
she desired a larger commission for her work as tout, and an increased stipend
in her quality of domestic help. Overtures from a certain Mrs. Kipper, in the
next street, had much unsettled her mind. This morning, while frying bacon in
the pan which had just been used for bloaters, she mused wistfully. Of a
sudden, Mrs. Bloggs rushed into the kitchen, and
began to talk in a voice of suppressed excitement.
'There! That
child's got scarlet fever! They wouldn't believe me at first, but I know it is.
Take their breakfast up; they're going by the eleven o'clock. I've let them off
with half the week if they'd go at once and not have no
doctor here. I knew that child was going to have something soon as I set
eyes on it. The idea of coming into people's 'ouses! They'd ought to be
ashamed of themselves! You just hold your tongue, and take up their breakfast.'
The people in
question, Londoners, with two babies, occupied a couple of rooms at the top of
the house; it was only the third day since their arrival. The sick child had
cried more or less all night. With the utmost despatch and secrecy, Mrs. Bloggs got rid of these dangerous inmates, who travelled
back to London in a crowded third-class carriage. As soon as they were out of
the house, Serena made ready to go down to the Bridge. It was high-season;
rooms priced at twenty-five shillings a week must not stand vacant.
As usual, the
girl had good luck. After only one or two futile attempts she accosted a
decent-looking couple with a little boy, and found them willing to accompany
her.
'You won't
get better rooms in all Yarmouth, mum. Clean? The people as had them left early
yesterday, and I've given them a thorough scrub out with my own hands. They was
that sorry to leave us -- and after three weeks, too! My aunt can't do too much
to make her lodgers comfortable. From Colchester, mum?
Why, I've got a sister there in service, and she says she don't think she'll
ever leave -- she likes the place so much!'
The man, who
carried a small portmanteau, seemed to be some species of clerk; he had a
bloodless face and a tired, anxious expression. His wife, laden with bags and
parcels, talked incessantly, and with a half-hysterical laugh, as if the
prospect of holiday were too much for her nerves. The little boy jumped about
and shouted his joy at the novel scene. It took them some twenty minutes to
reach Mrs. Bloggs's, and they were so tired after the
walk that even a worse lodging would have been a welcome place of rest. Save
the unavoidable change of water and linen, and a sprinkling under the beds of
what she called 'disinfectin',' Mrs. Bloggs had left the top rooms just as they were when the
Londoners departed an hour or two ago. She received the newcomers with effusive
welcome, delighted that they had not arrived ten minutes sooner, when she was
concluding a violent dispute with her lodgers on the first floor. What did they
think of these rooms? Didn't they smell sweet and fresh? The lady must
excuse her if she asked where they came from; she did like to know something of
people, as she tried to keep her house thoroughly respectable. And the very
least she could take was twenty-seven shillings -- which included first-rate
cooking. Twenty-five? Oh, dear me! Did they think this
was one of the ordinary lodging-houses? And so on for a long time, until
the man wearily consented to pay twenty-six shillings -- an extravagance of
which his wife continued to talk petulantly until she closed her eyes at eleven
o'clock that night.
Serena,
meanwhile, had come to a momentous resolve. She was afraid of scarlet fever;
this very day she would quit her aunt's house and go over to Mrs. Kipper's.
But, first of all, she must secure the money due to her. When Mrs. Bloggs came down from settling her new lodgers, Serena,
arms akimbo in the kitchen, put a plain question:
'And what are
you going to give me for holding my tongue?'
Mrs. Bloggs was startled. Well, she would give eighteenpence instead of the usual shilling commission.
'Oh, you
will! Then you may as well pay my wages at the same time, and make it a 'arf-a-sovereign. See!'
The girl
grinned, and planted her foot firmly. The week's wages just due to her amounted
to three-and-sixpence -- monstrous for a child of twelve, her aunt was always
saying; but Serena knew her own value, and the present opportunity was not to
be neglected. She would have half-a-sovereign down, or tell the new lodgers
what had happened this morning. Mrs. Bloggs cursed
her niece, but durst not defy her. As soon as she had received the money,
Serena, on pretence of putting it away, went into the wash-house (where she
slept), made a bundle of her very few belongings, and straightway fled.
It was a
disaster such as Mrs. Bloggs had not suffered for a
long time. When she grasped the situation -- in an hour or two she knew from a
neighbour that Serena had gone to Mrs. Kipper's -- her wrath overcame all
prudence. Leaving house and lodgers to look after themselves, she rushed round
into the next street, burst upon Mrs. Kipper's like a storm, and assailed that
shrewd woman, as well as Serena, who stood by, with virulent abuse. Fury had
made her forgetful of the weapon in her niece's hand, and Serena, amused at the
conflict between the two women, took good care not to retaliate on Mrs. Bloggs by a disclosure of that morning's sinister event;
for all she knew, Mrs. Kipper, at the very name of scarlet fever, might turn
her out of doors. But when her aunt began to make charges of theft, to damage
her character in her new mistress's eyes, the girl had much ado to restrain
herself; secretly she resolved to be even with Mrs. Bloggs
by a stratagem that would not imperil her own position.
The next day,
after a morning on the dry sands (trampled and befouled for a month past by an innumerable
multitude), amid the yells of ruffian peddlers, the roaring of blackguard
vocalists, the boisterous mirth of an East-End mob transported to the
sea-shore, Mrs. Bloggs's new lodgers were returning
to dinner, when, in a bye-street, the wife and mother felt her arm touched; she
looked round, and recognised Serena, who begged her to step aside for a
moment's conversation.
'I think it
only right to tell you, mum,' said the girl, 'that the lodgers as was before
you in your rooms had the scarlet fever. I didn't know it till after, or I'd
never have took you there. They was
got away on the quiet. It was a child as had it, and
if I was you ----'
The woman
uttered a scream, which checked her husband, and in the confusion Serena ran
away. There was a rapid, high-voiced colloquy, which ended in the man's
hastening forward. Already he felt discontented with Mrs. Bloggs's
lodgings, and fear for his child roused him to active indignation. The scene
that followed Mrs. Bloggs would not soon forget. Met
with a flat and furious denial of what he had heard, the man made such a
disturbance that all the other lodgers, just home to dinner, came out of their
rooms, and to them he addressed questions.
Yes --
replied a voice -- it was quite true that a family had left after staying only
a day or two, and that they had a sickly, crying child. When did they leave?
Why an hour or so before their successors arrival.
'Then there's
a damned lie brought home to you at once!' shouted the man. 'Look here, all you
people, there's been scarlet fever in the house. Take my advice, and do what
we're going to do -- clear out, and don't pay a farthing. If she tries to stop
you, get a p'liceman!'
The shrill
tones of his wife supplied detail to all who asked it; confusion grew worse
confounded; though a burly woman (who, ere now, had retained lodgers by force),
Mrs. Bloggs retreated downstairs into her kitchen,
and there listened to the storm of vilification which laid bare all her
misdoings and the discomforts of the house. Panic, aided by the spirit of
dishonesty, emptied her lodgings in about half an hour. She did not dare to
make her wrongs public, being already unfavourably known to the police, but
against Serena she registered a deep and fearful vow.
That
promising damsel, however, finding, on brief trial, that Mrs. Kipper exacted
too much work, had already quitted Yarmouth for Lowestoft. Like all persons of genius, she
abhorred monotony.
(Provided by Mitsuharu Matsuoka, Nagoya University, Japan,
on 17 December 1997.