Second String by Antonio Hope

The best parlour -- the private sitting-room -- at the Lion was on the ground floor, just opposite the private bar, and boasted a large bay window, commanding a full view of High Street. A low broad bench, comfortably cushioned, ran round the window, and afforded to Miss Flower a favourable station from which to observe what was doing in the town. On fine days, such as ruled just now, when the window was thrown up, the position also served as a rendezvous to which her growing band of friends and admirers could resort to exchange compliments, to post her in the latest news, or just to get a sight of her. Jack Rock would stroll across from his shop three or four times a day; Andy would stop a few minutes on his way to or from his lodgings; Billy would stretch his long legs over the sill and effect an entry; Vivien ask if she might come in for a few minutes; Chinks cast an eye as he hurried to his office; the Bird find an incredible number of occasions for passing on his daily duties. There the Nun sat, surveying the traffic of Meriton, and fully aware that Meriton, in its turn, honoured her with a flattering attention. Within the Lion itself she already reigned supreme; old Mr. Dove was at her feet, so was old Cox and the other _habitues_ of the private bar; the Bird, as already hinted, was "knocked silly" -- this contemptuous phrase for a sudden passion was Miss Miles'. Yet even Miss Miles was affable, and quite content to avenge herself for the Bird's desertion (which she justly conceived to be temporary) by a marked increase in those across-the-counter pleasantries which she had once assured her employer were carried on wholly and solely for the benefit of his business. The fact was that Miss Miles had once officiated at the bar of a "theatre of varieties," and this constituted a professional tie between the Nun and herself, strong enough to defy any trifling awkwardness caused by a wavering in the Bird's affections.

But the Nun's most notable and complete conquest was over Mr. Belfield. Billy Foot had brought him -- not his son Harry -- and speedily thereafter he called on his own account, full of courtly excuses because his wife, owing to a touch of cold, was not with him; he hoped that she would be able to come very soon. (Mr. Belfield was engaged on another small domestic struggle, such as had preceded Andy Hayes' first dinner at Halton.) Serenely indifferent to the minutiae of etiquette, Miss Flower allowed it to appear that she would just as soon receive Mr. Belfield by himself.