A dreadful annoyance. Met Mr. Franching, who lives at Peckham, and who is a great swell in his way. I ventured to ask him to come home to meat-tea, and take pot-luck. I did not think he would accept such a humble invitation; but the did saying, in a most friendly way, he would rather "peck" with us than by himself. I said:" we had better get into this blue "bus". He replied:" No blue-bussing for me. I have had enough of the blues lately. I lost a cool 'thou' over the copper scare. Step in here."
We drove up home in style, in a hansom-cab, and I knocked three times at the front door without getting an anwer. I saw Carrie, through the panels of ground-glass (with stars), rushing upstairs. I told Mr. Franching to wait at the door while I went round to the side. There I saw the grocer's boy actually picking off the paint on the door, which had formed into blisters. No time to reprove him; so went round and effected an entrance through the kitchen window. I let in Mr. Franching, and showed him intot he drawing-room. I went uptairs to Carrie, who was changing her dress, and told her I had persuaded Mr. Franching to come home. She replied:" How can you do such a thing? You know it's Sarah's holiday, and there's not a thing in the house, the cold mutoon having turned with the hot weather."
Eventually Carrie, like a good creature as she is, slipped down, washed up the teacups, and laid the cloth, and I gave Franching our views of Japan to look at while I ran round to the butcher's to get three chops.
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