ax his delicacy.
"How-how does Hughs treat the little girl who lives in the next room to
you?"
The old butler replied in a rather gloomy tone:
"She takes my advice, and don't 'ave nothin' to say to 'im. Dreadful
foreign-lookin' man 'e is. Wherever 'e was brought up I can't think!"
"A soldier, wasn't he?"
"So he says. He's one o' these that works for the Vestry; an' then 'e'll
go an' get upon the drink, an' when that sets 'im off, it seems as if
there wasn't no respect for nothing in 'im; he goes on against the
gentry, and the Church, and every sort of institution. I never met no
soldiers like him. Dreadful foreign--Welsh, they tell me."
"What do you think of the street you're living in?"
"I keeps myself to myself; low class o' street it is; dreadful low class
o' person there--no self-respect about 'em."
"Ah!" said Hilary.
"These little 'ouses, they get into the hands o' little men, and they
don't care so long as they makes their rent out o' them. They can't help
themselves--low class o' man like that; 'e's got to do the best 'e can
for 'imself. They say there's thousands o' these 'ouses all over London.
There's some that's for pullin' of 'em down, but that's talkin' rubbish;
where are you goin' to get the money for to do it? These 'ere little men,
they can't afford not even to put a paper on the walls, and the big
ground landlords-you can't expect them to know what's happenin' behind
their backs. There's some ignorant fellers like this Hughs talks a lot
o' wild nonsense about the duty o' ground landlords; but you can't expect
the real gentry to look into these sort o' things. They've got their
estates down in the country. I've lived with them, and of course I
know."
The little bulldog, incommoded by the passers-by, now took the
opportunity of beating with her tail against the old butler's legs.
"Oh dear! what's this? He don't bite, do 'e? Good Sambo!"
Miranda sought her master's eye at once. 'You see what happens to her if
a lady loiters in the streets,' she seemed to say.
"It must be hard standing about here all day, after the life you've led,"
said Hilary.
"I mustn't complain; it's been the salvation o' me."
"Do you get shelter?"
Again the old butler seemed to take him into confidence.
"Sometimes of a wet night they lets me stand up in the archway there;
they know I'm respectable. 'T wouldn't never do for that man"--he nodded
at his rival--"or any of them boys to ge
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