She went wearily on with her work.
Presently, after a last look round, she went up the creaking stairs,
to do Mr. Noaks' room.
She found on the table that screed which her mother had recited so
often this evening. She put it in the waste-paper basket.
Also on the table were a lexicon, a Thucydides, and some note-books.
These she took and shelved without a tear for the closed labours they
bore witness to.
The next disorder that met her eye was one that gave her
pause--seemed, indeed, to transfix her.
Mr. Noaks had never, since he came to lodge here, possessed more than
one pair of boots. This fact had been for her a lasting source of
annoyance; for it meant that she had to polish Mr. Noaks' boots always
in the early morning, when there were so many other things to be done,
instead of choosing her own time. Her annoyance had been all the
keener because Mr. Noaks' boots more than made up in size for what
they lacked in number. Either of them singly took more time and polish
than any other pair imaginable. She would have recognised them, at a
glance, anywhere. Even so now, it was at a glance that she recognised
the toes of them protruding from beneath the window-curtain.
Pages:
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349