Mrs Budd was waiting on the doorstep in anxious expectation of her lodgers.  To see her white hair, all but toothless mouth, and wrinkled face, she looked seventy, which was about her age; but to watch her alert, brisk movements, it would seem as if she enjoyed the energy of twenty.  She ushered Mavis into her apartments, talking volubly the while; but the latter could not help seeing that, whereas she was treated with the greatest deference by the landlady, this person quite ignored the existence of Mrs Trivett.

It was with a feeling of relief that Mavis sat down to a meal after the door had been closed on Mrs Budd’s chatter.  The change had already done her good.  Her eyes rested approvingly on the spotless table appointments.

“Poor dear!” exclaimed Mrs Trivett in pitying tones, who waited to see if Mavis had everything she wanted before eating with Mrs Budd in the kitchen.

“What’s the matter?” asked Mavis.

“I knew something dreadful would happen.  It’s the anniversary of the day on which I had my first lot of new teeth, which gave me such dreadful pain.”

“What’s wrong?”

“That Mrs Budd.  I took a dislike to her directly I saw her.”

Mavis stared at Mrs Trivett in surprise.

“I do hope you’ll be comfortable,” continued Mrs Trivett.  “But I fear you won’t be.  She looks the sort of person who would give anyone damp sheets and steal the sugar.”

Mrs Trivett said more to the same effect.  Mavis, remembering Mrs Budd’s behaviour to her, could scarcely keep back a smile; it was the first time since her illness that anything had appeared at all amusing.

But this was not the sum of Mrs Trivett’s resentment against Mrs Budd.  After the meal was over, she rejoined Mavis with perspiration dropping from her forehead.

“The kitchen’s like an oven, and I’ve nearly been roasted,” complained Mrs Trivett.  “And her horrid old husband is there, who can’t do anything for himself.”

“Why didn’t you leave before you got so hot?” asked Mavis.

“It’s that there Mrs Budd’s fault.  She’s only one tooth, and it takes her all her time to eat.”

“I meant, why didn’t you leave so that you could finish eating in here?”

“I didn’t like to, ma’am, but if you wouldn’t very much mind in future—–­”

“By all means, eat with me if you wish it.”

“Thank you kindly.  I’m sure that woman and me would come to blows before many days was over.”

Mavis rested for the remainder of the day and only saw Mrs Budd during the few minutes in which the table was being either laid or cleared away; but these few minutes were enough for the landlady to tell Mavis pretty well everything of moment in her life.  Mavis learned how Mrs Budd’s husband had been head gardener to a neighbouring baronet, until increasing infirmities had compelled him to give up work; also, that as he had spent most of his life in hot-houses,