ve and the mystery surrounding him, he would have sent her
a last word. The cook and head-waiter, interrogated as to their dealings
with the old gentleman, testified solemnly to the fact of their having
performed their duty by him. They would not go against their interests
so much as to forget one of his ways, they said-taking oath, as it were,
by their lower nature, in order to be credited: an instinct men have
of one another. The landlady could not contradict them, for the old
gentleman had made no complaint; but then she called to memory that
fifteen years back, in such and such a year, Wednesday's, dish had been,
by shameful oversight, furnished him for Tuesday's, and he had eaten it
quietly, but refused his Port; which pathetic event had caused alarm
and inquiry, when the error was discovered, and apologized for, the old
gentleman merely saying, 'Don't let it happen again.' Next day he drank
his Port, as usual, and the wheels of the Aurora went smoothly. The
landlady was thus justified in averring that something had been done by
somebody, albeit unable to point to anything specific. Women, who are
almost as deeply bound to habit as old gentlemen, possess more of its
spiritual element, and are warned by dreams, omens, creepings of the
flesh, unwonted chills, suicide of china, and other shadowing signs,
when a break is to be anticipated, or, has occurred. The landlady of
the Aurora tavern was visited by none of these, and with that beautiful
trust which habit gives, and which boastful love or vainer earthly
qualities would fail in effecting, she ordered that the pint of Madeira
should stand from six o'clock in the evening till seven--a small
monument of confidence in him who was at one instant the 'poor old
dear'; at another, the 'naughty old gad-about'; further, the 'faithless
old-good-for-nothing'; and again, the 'blessed pet' of the landlady's
parlour, alternately and indiscriminately apostrophized by herself, her
sister, and daughter.
On the last day of the month a step was heard coming up the long alley
which led from the riotous scrambling street to the plentiful cheerful
heart of the Aurora. The landlady knew the step. She checked the natural
flutterings of her ribbons, toned down the strong simper that was on
her lips, rose, pushed aside her daughter, and, as the step approached,
curtsied composedly. Old Habit lifted his hat, and passed. With the same
touching confidence in the Aurora that the Aurora had in h
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