“I do; and what’s more—I’ll
pay the damage. Go up, Mrs. Bubb, and just say
what I told you; and let’s see how she takes
it.”
Mrs. Clover began a faint objection, but Mrs. Bubb
did not heed it. Her face set in the joy of battle,
she turned from the room and ran upstairs.
THE STORMING OF THE FORT
Mr. and Mrs. Cheeseman squeezed together at their
partly-open door, were following the course of events
with a delighted eagerness which threatened to break
all bounds of discretion. Their grinning faces
signalled to Mrs. Bubb as she went by, and she, no
less animated, waved a hand to them as if promising
richer entertainment. The next minute she was
heard parleying with Miss Sparkes. Polly received
her, as was to be expected, with acrimonious defiance.
“Oh, it’s you, is it, Mrs. Bubb!
Go and clean up your dirty kitchen. It’ll
take you all your time.”
There needed but this to fire the landlady to extremities.
Her answer rang through the house. Dirty kitchen,
indeed! And how many meals had Miss Sparkes eaten
there at cost price—aye, often for nothing
at all! And who was it as made most dirt, coming
in at all hours of the day and night from running
about the streets?
“Very well, my lady! Are you going to turn
that key or not? That’s all I want to know.”
“I’ll have pity on your ignorance,”
replied Polly, “and tell you more than that.
I’m going to bed, and going to try to get to
sleep if there’s any chance of it in a ’ouse
like this, which might be a ’sylum for inebriates.”
Mrs. Bubb laughed, the strangest laugh ever heard
from her respectable lips. Words were needless,
and in a few seconds she panted before her friends
downstairs.
“She says she’s a-goin’ to bed.
Of all the shimeless creatures! Called me every
nime she could turn her tongue to! And wouldn’t
open her door not if the ’ouse was burning.
Do you hear her?”
Mr. Gammon buttoned his coat from top to bottom, smoothed
his moustache and his side-whiskers, and had the air
of a man who is in readiness for stern duty.
“I want both of you to come up with me,”
he said quietly.
Mrs. Clover began to look alarmed, even embarrassed.
“But perhaps she’s really gone to bed.”
“All right, she shall have time,” he nodded,
laughing. “I want both of you to come up
to see fair play.”
“But, Mr. Gammon, I shouldn’t like—”
“Mrs. Clover, you’ve come here to see
Polly, and you’ve a right to see Polly, and
by jorrocks you shall see Polly! Follow me upstairs.
I’ve said all that need be said; now to business.”
They ascended; Gammon three steps at a stride, the
others in a hurry and a flutter. Light streamed
from the Cheesemans’ room; the first-floor lodgers;
incapable any longer of self-restraint, were out on
the landing. On the next floor it was dark, but
Mr. Gammon saw a gleam along the bottom of Polly’s
door. He knocked—the knock of a policeman
armed with a warrant.
