The model lodging-house keeper

1848

SHE is so hurt to hear that the children disturb you! She has the greatest trouble in keeping them quiet, but begs you will not hesitate to mention it if they are at all noisy. She has told them at least fifty times never to come into your room, the little plagues! She a very sorry, but she cannot make twenty breakfasts, and wait upon twenty gentlemen all at once. You really must wait a little longer. Well! it's very strange, but the chimney never did smoke before; whatever can be the cause of it? Oh! that noise at the back is the skittle-ground - she quite forgot to mention it previously, but her house adjoins "a public," - it's a treat nuisance to be sure, but it's only of an evening, and won't trouble you much after eleven. - She hopes you feel yourself perfectly comfortable?
    She can't for the life of her make out who takes your books! all she knows is, that she's no time for reading - it must be that hussey, ANN; she'll send her away as sure as she's born, if she catches her at it! - You must make a mistake-there wasn't a bit of the leg left yesterday, she's ever so positive there wasn't - she can show you the bone if you wish it. - She never recollects coals so abominably dear; it's quite shameful! The ton you had in last week is all gone, and she was obliged to lend you a coal-scuttle herself this morning. - She can't make out what makes the paper so very late - those tiresome boys are enough to wear one's life out. - She's very sorry if there s no mustard in the house -  she has told ANN to get some at least a hundred times, if she has told her once, but it's of no use. She must get rid of the girl! - Lor! how very provoking - she wishes you had only told her you wanted some hot water - she's just that very minute put the kitchen fire out, but there's some nice fresh water, if you'll have any.
    What! a FLEA? (it is quite impossible to express the scream type; the reader must imagine in his mind's ear something equal in shrillness to a railway whistle), A FLEA!!! did you say. Oh! that she should live to hear such a thing! She's only a poor lone widow, and its cruel - that it is - to throw such a thing in her face! Well! if you are bitten all over, it no fault of hers; you must have brought the "nasty things" in yourself. Her house is known to be the sweetest house in the whole street - you can ask anybody if it isn't ! - Would you be kind enough not to ring the bell so often - there s a poor invalid lady on the first floor, and it distresses her sadly ! - She begs your pardon, but linen always was an extra - she had a gentleman who stopt in her two parlours once for ten years: he was a very nice gentleman to be sure, something in the law, and he never all the time raised so much as a murmur against the linen, nor any other gentleman that she has had any dealings with. You must be mistaken.
    She really cannot clean more than one pair of boots a day - some persons seem to have no bowels for the servants - poor creatures! - Well! what's the matter with the curtains, she should like very much to know? What, rather old! Well! on her word it's the first time she's even been told so, and they have only been up these eight years, - if so much, decidedly not more! However, if persons are not satisfied, they had better go - she has been offered three and sixpence a week more for the rooms - and goodness knows she doesn't make a blessed farthing by them. She's anxious to satisfy everybody, but cannot do wonders - and what's more, won't, to please any body! - She's extremely sorry to hear that you have lost half your shirts, but she cannot be answerable for her servants, of course. She has told, her lodgers over and over again always to be careful and lock their drawers, till she's fairly tired of telling them! What do you say? They always have been locked! Well! she shouldn't at all wonder now that you suspect her? - if so, she can only tell you to your face that she doesn't wear shirts, and begs that you'll suit yourself elsewhere. She never experienced such treatment in all her life and more than that, she won't - no, not to please the Queen, or the very best lodger in the world! Perhaps you'll accuse her next of stealing your tea and sugar? What, you do? Well! she's ashamed of you - that she is - and should like exceedingly to know what you call yourself? A gentleman indeed! No more a gentleman than she is a gentleman. However, she won't harbour such gentlemen in her house, she's determined of that so you'll please take the usual notice, and bundle yourself off as quick as you can, and precious good riddance too! She won't stand nonsense from anybody, though she is nothing better than a poor widow, and has not a soul to protect her in the wide world! She never saw such a gentleman.
    Not a word more, however, is said. The next evening some oysters are sent in for supper "with Missus' compliment's, please she says they're beautifully fresh;" or if it is. Sunday, she ventures in herself with her best cap, and two plates, one over the other, and "hopes you will excuse the liberty, but the joint looked so nice, she thought you would just like a slice of hot meat for luncheon, with a nice brown potato." She stirs the fire; sees that the windows are fastened down tight; can't make out where the draft comes out; asks in the softest voice whether you wouldn't like a nice glass of pale ale; and finishes by wiping with her apron the dust off the mantelpiece and all the chairs, and hoping that you're comfortable.
    As the fatal day draws near, she knocks at the door. "Is she disturbing you? Would you be kind enough to let her have a little drop of brandy - she should esteem it a great favour - she has such a dreadful sinking."
    The next morning she lays the breakfast cloth herself. For the first time the weekly bill is not ready, "but she's in no hurry - any time will do. Why! surely you're not thinking of going in this way? You have been with her so long; she should be miserable to lose you - such a nice gentleman too - you cannot mean to go!"
    But, alas! there is no appeal. Here let us shut the door. Language is too weak to describe the terrible slammings and hangings, and the fearful sarcasms of that last day. Arithmetic too, falls powerless before the awful array of formidable "extras" in the last week's bill of the MODEL LODGING-HOUSE KEEPER.

Punch, 1848