After we had been in the house for two or three days, Pomona came into our sitting-room one evening and made a short speech.

“I’ve settled matters with the woman here,” she said, “an’ I think you’ll like the way I’ve done it.  I couldn’t stand her follerin’ me about, an’ sayin’ ’ow they did things in Hingland, while her red-faced girl was a-spendin’ the days on the airy steps, a-lookin’ through the railin’s.  ‘Now, Mrs. Bowlin’,’ says I, ’it’ll just be the ruin of you an’ the death of me if you keep on makin’ a picter of yourself like that lonely Indian a-sittin’ on a pinnacle in the jographys, watchin’ the inroads of civilization, with a locomotive an’ a cog-wheel in front, an’ the buffalo an’ the grisly a-disappearin’ in the distance.  Now it’ll be much better for all of us,’ says I, ’if you’ll git down from your peak, and try to make up your mind that the world has got to move.  Aint there some place where you kin go an’ be quiet an’ comfortable, an’ not a-woundin’ your proud spirit a-watchin’ me bake hot rolls for breakfast an’ sich?’ An’ then she says she’d begun to think pretty much that way herself, an’ that she had a sister a-livin’ down in the Sussex Mews, back of Gresham Terrace, Camberwell Square, Hankberry Place, N.W. by N., an’ she thought she might as well go there an’ stay while we was here.  An’ so I says that was just the thing, and the sooner done the happier she’d be.  An’ I went up stairs and helped her pack her trunk, which is a tin one, which she calls her box, an’ I got her a cab, an’ she’s gone.”

“What!” I cried; “gone!  Has she given up her house entirely to us?”

“For the time bein’ she has,” answered Pomona, “for she saw very well it was better thus, an’ she’s comin’ every week to git her money, an’ to see when we’re goin’ to give notice.  An’ the small girl has been sent back to the country.”

It was impossible for Euphemia and myself to countenance this outrageous piece of eviction; but in answer to our exclamations of surprise and reproach, Pomona merely remarked that she had done it for the woman’s own good, and, as she was perfectly satisfied, she didn’t suppose there was any harm done; and, at any rate, it would be “lots nicer” for us.  And then she asked Euphemia what she was going to have for breakfast the next morning, so that Jonas could go out to the different mongers and get the things.

“Now,” said Euphemia, when Pomona had gone down stairs, “I really feel as if I had a foothold on British soil.  It doesn’t seem as if it was quite right, but it is perfectly splendid.”

And so it was.  From that moment we set up an English Rudder Grange in the establishment which Pomona had thus rudely wrenched, as it were, from the claws of the British Lion.  We endeavored to live as far as possible in the English style, because we wanted to try the manners and customs of every country.  We had tea for breakfast and ale for luncheon, and we ate shrimps, prawns, sprats, saveloys, and Yarmouth bloaters.  We “took in the Times,” and, to a certain extent, we endeavored to cultivate the broad vowels.  Some of these things we did not like, but we felt bound to allow them a fair trial.