Jasper knocked at the door indicated as that to the rooms occupied by the manager and his family, and on opening it was met by a combination of noises that bewildered, and of odours that suffocated.
‘Come in, I am glad to see you,’ said a voice; ‘Justice sent word I was to expect and detain you.’
The manager’s wife came forward to receive the visitors.
She was a pretty young woman, with very light frizzled hair, cut short—a head like that of the ‘curly-headed plough-boy.’ Eve could hardly believe her eyes, this was the real Preciosa, who on the stage had worn dark flowing hair. The face was good-humoured, simple, but not clean, for the paint and powder had been imperfectly washed off. It adhered at the corners of the eyes and round the nostrils. Also a ring of white powder lingered on her neck and at the roots of her hair on her brow.
‘Come in,’ she said, with a kindly smile that made pleasant dimples in her cheeks, ‘but take care where you walk. This is my parrot, a splendid bird, look at his green back and scarlet wing. Awake, old Poll?’
‘Does your mother know you’re out?’ answered the parrot hoarsely, with the hard eyes fixed on Eve.
‘Look at my Tom,’ said Mrs. Justice Barret, ‘how he races round his cage.’ She pointed to a squirrel tearing inanely up the wires of a revolving drum in which he was confined. ‘That is the way in which he greets my return from the theatre. Mind the cradle! Excuse my dress, I have been attending to baby.’ She rocked vigorously. ‘Slyboots, he knows when I come back without opening his peepers. Sucking your thumb vigorously, are you? I could eat it—I could eat you, you are sweet as barley-sugar.’ The enthusiastic mother dived with both arms into the cradle, brought out the child, and hugged it till it screamed.
‘What is Jacko about, I wonder,’ said the ex-Preciosa; ‘do observe him, sitting in the corner as demure as an old woman during a sermon. I’ll warrant he’s been at more mischief. What do you suppose I have found him out in? I was knitting a stocking for Justice, and when the time came for me to go to the theatre I put the half-finished stocking with the ball of worsted down in the bed, I mistrusted Jacko. As I dare not leave him in this room with baby, I locked him into the sleeping apartment. Will you believe me? he found what I had concealed. He plunged into the bed and discovered the stocking and unravelled the whole; not only so, but he has left his hair on the sheets, and whatever Justice will say to me and to Jacko I do not know. Never mind, if he is cross I’ll survive it. Now Jacko, how often have I told you not to bite off the end of your tail? The poor fellow is out of health, and we must not be hard on him.’