 | CHAPTER VIII. "Boarding out" |  |
8. CHAPTER VIII.
As much as Mrs. Barclay had desired this
change, there can be no doubt that Fanny Jones
has borne her along in it, and brought it about
much sooner than it otherwise would have
been.
But she is “at board;” that is, she is in
rooms vacated by Mr. Bond and family. She
has taken many of their articles, such as carpets,
ottomans, and curtains; and they, in turn,
have hers in possession. It is now the evening
after the sale; the first opportunity Mr.
Barclay has had to converse with his wife for
the last three weeks, when she was not
“sleepy,” or had Miss Fanny at her side!
“Well, wife,” said he, “now, I suppose, you
are in expectation of much enjoyment. I hope
you will find it; but, for myself, I must confess,
I feel as old Miss Widdifield said she did at
Madam Bates's, `like a cat in a strange garret.'
room? and why don't we have access to this
closet, pray? Bond said he had it, and I stipulated
for every inch of room he occupied
I'm sure I pay enough.”
“What do you pay?” inquired Mrs. Barclay,
gaping; “thirty dollars, I suppose—hey?”
“Yes, and twenty more at the end of it.”
“Why, I thought Mr. Bond paid thirty?”
“And so he did; but, you know, they kept
no nursery woman, and their two boys only
dined here; the rest of the time they were at
his brother's. But I must see into this door's
being locked.”
Sally knew the secret; but she said nothing
till Mr. Barclay left the room to inquire about
it; for he, of late, kept Sally at a distance with
her tongue.
Her explanation, however, to Mrs. Barclay
was, that Mrs. Shortt begged Mrs. Bond not
to show this anteroom to Mrs. Barclay; for
she had an old bachelor, who occupied a room
above, and, as he was very gouty, he had informed
leave the house unless he could procure a
room upon the second story. The day before
the Barclays went he was moved down. It
may be inferred the old man knew this trick;
for, however loud the knocking at the door,
there came no answer.
Mr. Barclay was gone some time, and returned
in no very good humor.
“I do believe,” said he, as he thrust the poker
to the very bottom of the grate, “that these
women who keep boarders are the greatest
`spongers' in the world.”
“Don't talk so, husband; Mrs. Shortt seems
very kind. Sally, do run down and ask her
to send me up a cup of strong hyson tea, a slice
of toast, and a bit of cake, and some preserves,
if she has any on the table.”
Mr. Barclay saw it was no use to talk, so
he took “little Fan,” and played a game of
“bo-peep” with her, and, soon after, took his
tea below among the strange group.
Madam Shortt was a very, very particular
began with boarders as she could hold out;” and,
it seems, she began with a vengeance with the
Barclays. Sally did her message in a very
proper manner, and even expressed Mrs. Barclay's
regrets (which she did not send) that
she was prevented by a severe headache from
appearing at the table, and she wished her tea
in her room.
“Give my compliments to Mrs. Barclay,”
said Madam Shortt, “and tell her it is in direct
violation of all the rules of my house to send
food to the rooms of the inmates; that if people
are too sick to come to the table, we suppose
them too sick to eat, and, of course, then
they provide a nurse; but, considering she is
a new-comer, I will to-night let you take the
waiter from the kitchen, and carry it to Mrs.
Barclay's room.”
Sally was thunder-struck, but did as she was
desired, and succeeded only in procuring a
slice of dry toast, and a piece of very dry
“sponge cake;” but, as she delivered Madam
tea relished, and Mrs. Barclay's head really
ached worse than before. But she resolved
not to complain. Sally took her tea with the
domestics, and a poor meal she found it; “little
Fan” had her tumbler of milk and crackers,
and went to sleep. Would that we could, like
tired children, drop into sweet forgetfulness,
when vexed and tired with all about us!
In the course of the first evening, Mr. Barclay
remarked to his wife that he believed they
had a real “Tartar” to deal with, and she had
better prepare herself to get along as smoothly
as possible; “for,” said he, “Bond and his
wife will laugh well in their sleeves, if we
should get up a quarrel to begin with, when
they have boarded here for years. But I tell
you one thing, wife, and that is, for breakfast,
you had better equip yourself to appear at the
table, for there are great inquiries about you. I
heard a remark from a large, portly woman,
just as I entered the front parlor to tea—not
being perceived, I suppose—which, I think, referred
not do it; if to-night, you may to-morrow, and
it is setting a bad precedent.'
“What would you put on for a morning
dress, husband? I meant Fanny should have
brought me something suitable.”
“Wear just what you please, Hepsy, only
don't dress too much. The most genteel ladies,
in the morning, never wear any thing better
than a calico or de lain, I believe.”
“Hadn't Sally better run over and ask Mrs.
Bond what is proper to wear?”
“Don't be so foolish, wife; it is of no sort
of consequence. There will be more important
matters, I fear, soon to talk about, unless
we go very even-handed.”
And, sure enough, the first night was a trying
one to Barclay. Scarcely would he get
in a drowsy state, approaching sleep, ere a terrible
groan, sometimes accompanied by an
oath, would burst upon his ear! As he listened,
a low, indistinct murmuring could be heard,
as if two were in close consultation. Thus it
was somewhat of a nervous temperament, and
probably, at this time, looking back as well as
forward to little domestic happiness, sprang
from his bed, lighted his lamp, and had recourse
to a book.
Mrs. Barclay, perfectly undisturbed, slept
quietly till awakened by that unusual sound to
her ears, “the gong,” at its first summons to
prepare for breakfast.
“Oh dear!” was her first exclamation, “can
that be for breakfast? I'm sure I never can rise
at this early hour. Mr. Barclay, how came
you up so early?”
“Up!” said Barclay; “I might as well have
been in a cotton-factory all night as listening
to such groans and oaths as came from that
room.”
“I'm sure I heard nothing, husband.”
| CHAPTER VIII. "Boarding out" | |