"Ye must go to bed this minute," said he.
"But he's _in_ bed," cried Mrs Machin.
"I mean yerself," said Dr Stirling.
She was very nearly at the end of her resources. And the proof was that
she had no strength left to fight Dr Stirling. She did go to bed. And
shortly afterwards Denry got up. And a little later, Rose Chudd, that
prim and efficient young widow from lower down the street, came into the
house and controlled it as if it had been her own. Mrs Machin, whose
constitution was hardy, arose in about a week, cured, and duly dismissed
Rose with wages and without thanks. But Rose had been. Like the
_Signal's_ burglars, she had "effected an entrance." And the house
had not been turned upside down. Mrs Machin, though she tried, could not
find fault with the result of Rose's uncontrolled activities.
III
One morning--and not very long afterwards, in such wise did Fate seem to
favour the young at the expense of the old--Mrs Machin received two
letters which alarmed and disgusted her. One was from her landlord,
announcing that he had sold the house in which she lived to a Mr
Wilbraham of London, and that in future she must pay the rent to the
said Mr Wilbraham or his legal representatives.
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