Read Online The Princess Priscilla's Fortnight by Elizabeth von Arnim - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth von Arnim
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confounded dictionary words. Which cottage is it?"
"It is the small cottage," said Fritzing mastering his anger, "adjoining the churchyard. It stands by itself, and is separated from the road by an extremely miniature garden. It is entirely covered by creeping plants which I believe to be roses."
"That's a couple."
"So much the better."
"And they're let. One to the shoemaker, and the other to old mother Shaw."
"Accommodation could no doubt be found for the present tenants in some other house, and I am prepared to indemnify them handsomely. Might I inquire the number of rooms the cottages contain?"
"Two apiece, and a kitchen and attic. Coal-hole and pig-stye in the back yard. Also a pump. But they're not for sale, so what's the use--"
"Sir, do they also contain bathrooms?"
"Bathrooms?" Mr. Dawson stared with so excessively stupid a stare that Fritzing, who heaver could stand stupidity, got angry again.
"I said bathrooms, sir," he said, raising his voice, "and I believe with perfect distinctness."
"Oh, I heard you right enough. I was only wondering if you were trying to be funny."
"Is this a business conversation or is it not?" cried Fritzing, in his turn bringing his fist down on the table.
"Look here, what do you suppose people who live in such places want?"
"I imagine cleanliness and decency as much as anybody else."
"Well, I've never been asked for one with a bathroom in my life."
"You are being asked now," said Fritzing, glaring at him, "but you wilfully refuse to reply. From your manner, however, I conclude that they contain none. If so, no doubt I could quickly have some built."
"Some? Why, how many do you want?"
"I have a niece, sir, and she must have her own."
Mr. Dawson again stared with what seemed to Fritzing so deplorably foolish a stare. "I never heard of such a thing," he said.
"What did you never hear of, sir?"
"I never heard of one niece and one uncle in a labourer's cottage wanting a bathroom apiece."
"Apparently you have never heard of very many things," retorted Fritzing angrily. "My niece desires to have her own bathroom, and it is no one's business but hers."
"She must be a queer sort of girl."
"Sir," cried Fritzing, "leave my niece out of the conversation."
"Oh all right--all right. I'm sure I don't want to talk about your niece. But as for the cottages, it's no good wanting those or any others, for you won't get 'em."
"And pray why not, if I offer a good price?"
"Lady Shuttleworth won't sell. Why should she? She'd only have to build more to replace them. Her people must live somewhere. And she'll never turn out old Shaw and the shoemaker to make room for a couple of strangers."
Fritzing was silent, for his heart was sinking. "Suppose, sir," he said after a pause, during which his eyes had been fixed thoughtfully on the carpet and Mr. Dawson had been staring at him and whistling softly but very offensively, "suppose I informed Lady Shuttleworth of my willingness to build two new cottages--excellent new cottages--for the tenants of these old ones, and pay her a good price as well for these, do you think she would listen to me?"
"I say, the schoolmastering business must be a rattling good one. I'm blessed if I know what you want to live in 'em for if money's so little object with you. They're shabby and uncomfortable, and an old chap like you--I mean, a man of your age, who's made his little pile, and wants luxuries like plenty of bathrooms--ought to buy something tight and snug. Good roof and electric light. Place for horse and trap. And settle down and be a gentleman."
"My niece," said Fritzing, brushing aside these suggestions with an angrily contemptuous wave of his hand, "has taken a fancy--I may say an exceedingly violent fancy--to these two cottages. What is all this talk of traps and horses? My niece wishes for these cottages. I shall do my utmost to secure them for her."
"Well, all I can say is she must be a--"
"Silence, sir!" cried Fritzing.
Mr. Dawson got up and
"It is the small cottage," said Fritzing mastering his anger, "adjoining the churchyard. It stands by itself, and is separated from the road by an extremely miniature garden. It is entirely covered by creeping plants which I believe to be roses."
"That's a couple."
"So much the better."
"And they're let. One to the shoemaker, and the other to old mother Shaw."
"Accommodation could no doubt be found for the present tenants in some other house, and I am prepared to indemnify them handsomely. Might I inquire the number of rooms the cottages contain?"
"Two apiece, and a kitchen and attic. Coal-hole and pig-stye in the back yard. Also a pump. But they're not for sale, so what's the use--"
"Sir, do they also contain bathrooms?"
"Bathrooms?" Mr. Dawson stared with so excessively stupid a stare that Fritzing, who heaver could stand stupidity, got angry again.
"I said bathrooms, sir," he said, raising his voice, "and I believe with perfect distinctness."
"Oh, I heard you right enough. I was only wondering if you were trying to be funny."
"Is this a business conversation or is it not?" cried Fritzing, in his turn bringing his fist down on the table.
"Look here, what do you suppose people who live in such places want?"
"I imagine cleanliness and decency as much as anybody else."
"Well, I've never been asked for one with a bathroom in my life."
"You are being asked now," said Fritzing, glaring at him, "but you wilfully refuse to reply. From your manner, however, I conclude that they contain none. If so, no doubt I could quickly have some built."
"Some? Why, how many do you want?"
"I have a niece, sir, and she must have her own."
Mr. Dawson again stared with what seemed to Fritzing so deplorably foolish a stare. "I never heard of such a thing," he said.
"What did you never hear of, sir?"
"I never heard of one niece and one uncle in a labourer's cottage wanting a bathroom apiece."
"Apparently you have never heard of very many things," retorted Fritzing angrily. "My niece desires to have her own bathroom, and it is no one's business but hers."
"She must be a queer sort of girl."
"Sir," cried Fritzing, "leave my niece out of the conversation."
"Oh all right--all right. I'm sure I don't want to talk about your niece. But as for the cottages, it's no good wanting those or any others, for you won't get 'em."
"And pray why not, if I offer a good price?"
"Lady Shuttleworth won't sell. Why should she? She'd only have to build more to replace them. Her people must live somewhere. And she'll never turn out old Shaw and the shoemaker to make room for a couple of strangers."
Fritzing was silent, for his heart was sinking. "Suppose, sir," he said after a pause, during which his eyes had been fixed thoughtfully on the carpet and Mr. Dawson had been staring at him and whistling softly but very offensively, "suppose I informed Lady Shuttleworth of my willingness to build two new cottages--excellent new cottages--for the tenants of these old ones, and pay her a good price as well for these, do you think she would listen to me?"
"I say, the schoolmastering business must be a rattling good one. I'm blessed if I know what you want to live in 'em for if money's so little object with you. They're shabby and uncomfortable, and an old chap like you--I mean, a man of your age, who's made his little pile, and wants luxuries like plenty of bathrooms--ought to buy something tight and snug. Good roof and electric light. Place for horse and trap. And settle down and be a gentleman."
"My niece," said Fritzing, brushing aside these suggestions with an angrily contemptuous wave of his hand, "has taken a fancy--I may say an exceedingly violent fancy--to these two cottages. What is all this talk of traps and horses? My niece wishes for these cottages. I shall do my utmost to secure them for her."
"Well, all I can say is she must be a--"
"Silence, sir!" cried Fritzing.
Mr. Dawson got up and
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