CHAPTER XXXIX.

MISS LOUISA COLEMAN

That the house over the way was tenanted was plain to all the world,--at least one occupant sat gazing through the window of the first floor front room. An old woman in a cap,--one of those large old-fashioned caps which our grandmothers used to wear, tied with strings under the chin. It was a bow window, and as she was seated in the bay looking right in our direction she could hardly have failed to see us as we advanced,--indeed she continued to stare at us all the while with placid calmness. Yet I knocked once, twice, and yet again without the slightest notice being taken of my summons.

Sydney gave expression to his impatience in his own peculiar vein.

‘Knockers in this part of the world seem intended for ornament only,--nobody seems to pay any attention to them when they’re used. The old lady upstairs must be either deaf or dotty.’ He went out into the road to see if she still was there. ‘She’s looking at me as calmly as you please,--what does she think we’re doing here, I wonder; playing a tune on her front door by way of a little amusement?--Madam!’ He took off his hat and waved it to her. ‘Madam! might I observe that if you won’t condescend to notice that we’re here your front door will run the risk of being severely injured!--She don’t care for me any more than if I was nothing at all,--sound another tattoo upon that knocker. Perhaps she’s so deaf that nothing short of a cataclysmal uproar will reach her auditory nerves.’

She immediately proved, however, that she was nothing of the sort. Hardly had the sounds of my further knocking died away than, throwing up the window, she thrust out her head and addressed me in a fashion which, under the circumstances, was as unexpected as it was uncalled for.

‘Now, young man, you needn’t be in such a hurry!’

Sydney explained.

‘Pardon me, madam, it’s not so much a hurry we’re in as pressed for time,--this is a matter of life and death.’

She turned her attention to Sydney,--speaking with a frankness for which, I imagine, he was unprepared.

‘I don’t want none of your imperence, young man. I’ve seen you before,--you’ve been hanging about here the whole day long!--and I don’t like the looks of you, and so I’ll let you know. That’s my front door, and that’s my knocker,--I’ll come down and open when I like, but I’m not going to be hurried, and if the knocker’s so much as touched again, I won’t come down at all.’

She closed the window with a bang. Sydney seemed divided between mirth and indignation.

‘That’s a nice old lady, on my honour,--one of the good old crusty sort. Agreeable characters this neighbourhood