I believe she was given to fits.  Anyhow she fell very ill once when she came, and had to be given brandy to support her.  I was afraid she was going to die in the house, which would have been exceedingly unpleasant, for it is a heinous breach of gentility to be found mixed up in any such transactions.  We are so foolish, we have such little minds, we try to hide our doings from our neighbors, who are all going through the same experiences, and are equally desirous of concealing them from us.  If all our screens were taken away what a comedy of errors would be disclosed.  How surprised we should be to see everyone committing follies of which we have been so ashamed and so anxious to hide from the eyes of all!

After all the brandy had a most beneficial effect.  I think it must have flown to her head; for never before had she given such large amounts.  I was quite sorry to find her so well at her next advent.  Her sniff was even more eloquent, and her prices had returned to their original low level.  I regret now that I did not again try the brandy.

Another woman I employed was even uglier than the first.  She was so wholesomely ugly.  A great red full moon represented her countenance, radiant with the color of the Eiffel Tower.  She was altogether a more satisfactory chancellor than the other.  She always insisted on your stating your own price to begin with.  “Well, what d’yer think yerself, mum?” was her invariable ejaculation, and then, hearing your reply, would break in on whatever you said by “It ain’t worth more than ’arf that to me, mum,” in the most aggrieved voice.  I became used to her in time, and knowing she would halve whatever I said, used to demand double the worth of the thing.  “What d’yer think yerself, mum?” You grow so tired of your opinion being thus asked.  I wonder how many times she says it in a day!  It is a cautious way of going about it, at any rate.  If that woman ever appeared in a police court on a charge of dishonesty, and the magistrate asked her what she had to say to the charge, the answer would undoubtedly be, “Well, what d’yer think yerself, sir?”

Some of those bills are still unpaid.  Quarter day is coming round again, so I expect there will be some more soon.  Alas!  I am an unlucky being, born under an unlucky star.

You may think it a strange notion, but I attribute all my ill-luck to spiders: 

    “If you wish to live and thrive,
    Let a spider run alive.”

I am not superstitious as a rule, but I cannot help thinking that my wholesale massacre of this obnoxious insect has something to do with my misfortunes by way of retribution.