To-night he was inveighing against landlords--he who by "conveyancing"
kept a wife and family, and a French governess for the family, in rather
more than comfort. The Fearns's French governess was one of the seven
wonders of the Five Towns. Men enjoyed him in these moods; and as he
raised his voice, so he enlarged the circle of his audience.
"If the by-laws of this town were worth a bilberry," he was saying,
"about a thousand so-called houses would have to come down to-morrow.
Now there's that old woman I was talking about just now--Hullins. She's
a Catholic--and my governess is always slumming about among Catholics--
that's how I know. She's paid half-a-crown a week for pretty near half a
century for a hovel that isn't worth eighteen-pence, and now she's going
to be pitched into the street because she can't pay any more. And she's
seventy if she's a day! And that's the basis of society. Nice refined
society, eh?"
"Who's the grasping owner?" some one asked.
"Old Mrs Codleyn," said Fearns.
"Here, Mr Machin, they're talking about you," said the Secretary and
Steward, genially. He knew that Denry collected Mrs Codleyn's rents.
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