It was on a Friday evening, an inauspicious Friday, that poor Ruby Ruggles had insisted on leaving the security of her Aunt Pipkin’s house with her aristocratic and vicious lover, in spite of the positive assurance made to her by Mrs Pipkin that if she went forth in such company she should not be allowed to return. ‘Of course you must let her in,’ Mrs Hurtle had said soon after the girl’s departure. Whereupon Mrs Pipkin had cried. She knew her own softness too well to suppose it to be possible that she could keep the girl out in the streets all night; but yet it was hard upon her, very hard, that she should be so troubled. ‘We usen’t to have our ways like that when I was young,’ she said, sobbing. What was to be the end of it? Was she to be forced by circumstances to keep the girl always there, let the girl’s conduct be what it might? Nevertheless she acknowledged that Ruby must be let in when she came back. Then, about nine o’clock, John Crumb came; and the latter part of the evening was more melancholy even than the first. It was impossible to conceal the truth from John Crumb. Mrs Hurtle saw the poor man and told the story in Mrs Pipkin’s presence.

‘She’s headstrong, Mr Crumb,’ said Mrs Hurtle.

‘She is that, ma’am. And it was along wi’ the baronite she went?’

‘It was so, Mr Crumb.’

‘Baro-nite! Well; — perhaps I shall catch him some of these days; — went to dinner wi’ him, did she? Didn’t she have no dinner here?’

Then Mrs Pipkin spoke up with a keen sense of offence. Ruby Ruggles had had as wholesome a dinner as any young woman in London — a bullock’s heart and potatoes — just as much as ever she had pleased to eat of it. Mrs Pipkin could tell Mr Crumb that there was ‘no starvation nor yet no stint in her house.’ John Crumb immediately produced a very thick and admirably useful blue cloth cloak, which he had brought up with him to London from Bungay, as a present to the woman who had been good to his Ruby. He assured her that he did not doubt that her victuals were good and plentiful, and went on to say that he had made bold to bring her a trifle out of respect. It was some little time before Mrs Pipkin would allow herself to be appeased; — but at last she permitted the garment to be placed on her shoulders. But it was done after a melancholy fashion. There was no smiling consciousness of the bestowal of joy on the countenance of the donor as he gave it, no exuberance of thanks from the recipient as she received it. Mrs Hurtle, standing by, declared it to be perfect; — but the occasion was one which admitted of no delight. ‘It’s very good of you, Mr Crumb, to think of an old woman like me — particularly when you’ve such a deal of trouble with a young un’.’

‘It’s like the smut in the wheat, Mrs Pipkin, or the d’sease in the ‘tatoes; — it has to be put up with, I suppose. Is she very partial, ma’am, to that young baronite?’ This question was asked of Mrs Hurtle.

‘Just a fancy for the time, Mr Crumb,’ said the lady.

‘They never thinks as how their fancies may wellnigh half kill a man!’ Then he was silent for a while, sitting back in his chair, not moving a limb, with his eyes fastened on Mrs Pipkin’s ceiling. Mrs Hurtle had some work in her hand, and sat watching him. The man was to her an extraordinary being — so constant, so slow, so unexpressive, so unlike her own countrymen — willing to endure so much, and at the same time so warm in his affections! ‘Sir Felix Carbury!’ he said. ‘I’ll Sir Felix him some of these days. If it was only dinner, wouldn’t she be back afore this, ma’am?’

‘I suppose they’ve gone to some place of amusement,’ said Mrs Hurtle.

‘Like enough,’ said John Crumb in a low voice.

‘She’s that mad after dancing as never was,’ said Mrs Pipkin.

‘And where is it as ’em dances?’ asked Crumb, getting up from his chair, and stretching himself. It was evident to both the ladies that he was beginning to think that he would follow Ruby to the music hall. Neither of them answered him, however, and then he sat down again. ‘Does ’em dance all night at them places, Mrs Pipkin?’

‘They do pretty nearly all that they oughtn’t to do,’ said Mrs Pipkin. John Crumb raised one of his fists, brought it down heavily on the palm of his other hand, and then sat silent for awhile.

‘I never knowed as she was fond o’ dancing,’ he said. ‘I’d a had dancing for her down at Bungay — just as ready as anything. D’ye think, ma’am, it’s the dancing she’s after, or the baro-nite?’ This was another appeal to Mrs Hurtle.

‘I suppose they go together,’ said the lady.

Then there was another long pause, at the end of which poor John Crumb burst out with some violence. ‘Domn him! Domn him! What ‘ad I ever dun to him? Nothing! Did I ever interfere wi’ him? Never! But I wull. I wull. I wouldn’t wonder but I’ll swing for this at Bury!’

‘Oh, Mr Crumb, don’t talk like that,’ said Mrs Pipkin.

‘Mr Crumb is a little disturbed, but he’ll get over it presently,’ said Mrs Hurtle.

‘She’s a nasty slut to go and treat a young man as she’s treating you,’ said Mrs Pipkin.

‘No, ma’am; — she ain’t nasty,’ said the lover. ‘But she’s crou’ll — horrid crou’ll. It’s no more use my going down about meal and pollard, nor business, and she up here with that baro-nite — no, no more nor nothin’! When I handles it I don’t know whether its middlings nor nothin’ else. If I was to twist his neck, ma’am, would you take it on yourself to say as I was wrong?’

‘I’d sooner hear that you had taken the girl away from him,’ said Mrs Hurtle.

‘I could pretty well eat him — that’s what I could. Half past eleven; is it? She must come some time, mustn’t she?’ Mrs Pipkin, who did not want to burn candles all night long, declared that she could give no assurance on that head. If Ruby did come, she should, on that night, be admitted. But Mrs Pipkin thought that it would be better to get up and let her in than to sit up for her. Poor Mr Crumb did not at once take the hint, and remained there for another half-hour, saying little, but waiting with the hope that Ruby might come. But when the clock struck twelve he was told that he must go. Then he slowly collected his limbs and dragged them out of the house.

‘That young man is a good fellow,’ said Mrs Hurtle as soon as the door was closed.

‘A deal too good for Ruby Ruggles,’ said Mrs Pipkin. ‘And he can maintain a wife. Mr Carbury says as he’s as well to do as any tradesman down in them parts.’

Mrs Hurtle disliked the name of Mr Carbury, and took this last statement as no evidence in John Crumb’s favour. ‘I don’t know that I think better of the man for having Mr Carbury’s friendship,’ she said.

‘Mr Carbury ain’t any way like his cousin, Mrs Hurtle.’

‘I don’t think much of any of the Carburys, Mrs Pipkin. It seems to me that everybody here is either too humble or too overbearing. Nobody seems content to stand firm on his own footing and interfere with nobody else.’ This was all Greek to poor Mrs Pipkin. ‘I suppose we may as well go to bed now. When that girl comes and knocks, of course we must let her in. If I hear her, I’ll go down and open the door for her.’

Mrs Pipkin made very many apologies to her lodger for the condition of her household. She would remain up herself to answer the door at the first sound, so that Mrs Hurtle should not be disturbed. She would do her best to prevent any further annoyance. She trusted Mrs Hurtle would see that she was endeavouring to do her duty by the naughty wicked girl. And then she came round to the point of her discourse. She hoped that Mrs Hurtle would not be induced to quit the rooms by these disagreeable occurrences. ‘I don’t mind saying it now, Mrs Hurtle, but your being here is ever so much to me. I ain’t nothing to depend on — only lodgers, and them as is any good is so hard to get!’ The poor woman hardly understood Mrs Hurtle, who, as a lodger, was certainly peculiar. She cared nothing for disturbances, and rather liked than otherwise the task of endeavouring to assist in the salvation of Ruby. Mrs Hurtle begged that Mrs Pipkin would go to bed. She would not be in the least annoyed by the knocking. Another half-hour had thus been passed by the two ladies in the parlour after Crumb’s departure. Then Mrs Hurtle took her candle and had ascended the stairs half way to her own sitting-room, when a loud double knock was heard. She immediately joined Mrs Pipkin in the passage. The door was opened, and there stood Ruby Ruggles, John Crumb, and two policemen! Ruby rushed in, and casting herself on to one of the stairs began to throw her hands about, and to howl piteously. ‘Laws a mercy; what is it?’ asked Mrs Pipkin.

‘He’s been and murdered him!’ screamed Ruby. ‘He has! He’s been and murdered him!’

‘This young woman is living here; &md............