The Real Lady Hilda by B.M. Croker

It would be a new experience for me to take the lead, to be manager, financier, adviser. When I had restored Emma, after some difficulty, and left her comparatively composed-and armed with salts and fan-I ran up to my own room, locked the door, and sat down to think. Something must be done immediately; we ought to leave our extravagantly expensive lodgings without even a week's delay. If Mrs. Keene would but let us off, it would save twelve guineas, and then we should have twelve pounds twelve shillings, to add to that ghastly eightpence. Mrs. Keene was always very pleasant to me: I would muster up courage, and go and speak to her, and tell her that we had received unexpected news, and were obliged to retrench. I must honestly confess that my heart beat fearfully fast as I knocked at the door of her sanctum, and heard her shrill "come in."

The interview passed off much better than I anticipated-although the cauliflower still rankled in her mind. She, fortunately for us, had just heard of what she termed "a good let"-old customers, who wished to come in immediately, and she agreed to our prompt departure without demur, saying with immense condescension, "These sort of apartments are not suitable for any but wealthy folk, as can pay well, and is above fighting over vegetables!"