‟
mentioned in the Revelations, again prevails. Pray come and see my
lodging. It will be a good omen for me. Youth, and hope, and beauty are
very seldom there. It is a long, long time since I had a visit from either.”
She had taken my hand, and leading me and Miss Jellyby away,
beckoned Richard and Ada to come too. I did not know how to excuse
myself and looked to Richard for aid. As he was half amused and half
curious and all in doubt how to get rid of the old lady without offence,
she continued to lead us away, and he and Ada continued to follow, our
strange conductress informing us all the time, with much smiling
condescension, that she lived close by.
It was quite true, as it soon appeared. She lived so close by that we
had not time to have done humouring her for a few moments before she
was at home. Slipping us out at a little side gate, the old lady stopped
most unexpectedly in a narrow back street, part of some courts and
lanes immediately outside the wall of the inn, and said, This is my ‟
lodging. Pray walk up!”
She had stopped at a shop over which was written Krook, Rag and
Bottle Warehouse. Also, in long thin letters, Krook, Dealer In Marine
Stores. In one part of the window was a picture of a red paper mill at
which a cart was unloading a quantity of sacks of old rags. In another
was the inscription Bones Bought. In another, Kitchen-Stuff Bought. In
another, Old Iron Bought. In another, Waste-Paper Bought. In another,
Ladies’ and Gentlemen’s Wardrobes Bought. Everything seemed to be
bought and nothing to be sold there. In all parts of the window were
quantities of dirty bottles—blacking bottles, medicine bottles, gingerbeer and soda-water bottles, pickle bottles, wine bottles, ink bottles; I
am reminded by mentioning the latter that the shop had in several little
particulars the air of being in a legal neighbourhood and of being, as it
were, a dirty hanger-on and disowned relation of the law. There were a
great many ink bottles. There was a little tottering bench of shabby old‟
mentioned in the Revelations, again prevails. Pray come and see my
lodging. It will be a good omen for me. Youth, and hope, and beauty are
very seldom there. It is a long, long time since I had a visit from either.”
She had taken my hand, and leading me and Miss Jellyby away,
beckoned Richard and Ada to come too. I did not know how to excuse
myself and looked to Richard for aid. As he was half amused and half
curious and all in doubt how to get rid of the old lady without offence,
she continued to lead us away, and he and Ada continued to follow, our
strange conductress informing us all the time, with much smiling
condescension, that she lived close by.
It was quite true, as it soon appeared. She lived so close by that we
had not time to have done humouring her for a few moments before she
was at home. Slipping us out at a little side gate, the old lady stopped
most unexpectedly in a narrow back street, part of some courts and
lanes immediately outside the wall of the inn, and said, This is my ‟
lodging. Pray walk up!”
She had stopped at a shop over which was written Krook, Rag and
Bottle Warehouse. Also, in long thin letters, Krook, Dealer In Marine
Stores. In one part of the window was a picture of a red paper mill at
which a cart was unloading a quantity of sacks of old rags. In another
was the inscription Bones Bought. In another, Kitchen-Stuff Bought. In
another, Old Iron Bought. In another, Waste-Paper Bought. In another,
Ladies’ and Gentlemen’s Wardrobes Bought. Everything seemed to be
bought and nothing to be sold there. In all parts of the window were
quantities of dirty bottles—blacking bottles, medicine bottles, gingerbeer and soda-water bottles, pickle bottles, wine bottles, ink bottles; I
am reminded by mentioning the latter that the shop had in several little
particulars the air of being in a legal neighbourhood and of being, as it
were, a dirty hanger-on and disowned relation of the law. There were a
great many ink bottles. There was a little tottering bench of shabby old
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