Albinia went to inquire after the sick man at her first leisure
moment, and while talking kindly to the wife, and hearing her
troubles, was surprised at the forlorn rickety state of the building,
the broken pavement, damp walls, and door that would not shut,
because the frame had sunk out of the perpendicular.
'Can't you ask your landlord to do something to the house?'
'It is of no use, ma'am, Mr. Pettilove never will do nothing.
Perhaps if you would be kind enough to say a word to him, ma'am--'
'Mr. Pettilove, the lawyer? I'll try if Mr. Kendal can say anything
to him. It really is a shame to leave a house in this condition.'
Thanks were so profuse, that she feared that she was supposed to
possess some power of amelioration. The poor woman even insisted on
conducting her up a break-neck staircase to see the broken ceiling,
whence water often streamed in plentifully from the roof.
Her mind full of designs against the cruel landlord, she speeded up
the hill, exhilarated by each step she took into the fresh air, to
the garden-gate, which she was just unhasping when the hearty voice
of the Vicar was heard behind her. 'Mrs. Kendal! I told Fanny you
would come.'
Instead of taking her to the front door he conducted her across a
sloping lawn towards a French window open to the bright afternoon
sunshine.
'Here she is, here is Mrs. Kendal!' he said, sending his voice before
him, as they came in sight of the pretty little drawing-room, where
through the gay chintz curtains, she saw the clear fire shining upon
half-a-dozen school girls, ranged opposite to a couch.
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