it before purchase, the caretaker used to praise the house in the
words that Nuth had suggested. "If it wasn't for the drains," she
would say, "it's the finest house in London," and when they pounced on
this remark and asked questions about the drains, she would answer
them that the drains also were good, but not so good as the house.
They did not see Nuth when they went over the rooms, but Nuth was
there.

Here in a neat black dress on one spring morning came an old woman
whose bonnet was lined with red, asking for Mr. Nuth; and with her
came her large and awkward son. Mrs. Eggins, the caretaker, glanced up
the street, and then she let them in, and left them to wait in the
drawing-room amongst furniture all mysterious with sheets. For a long
while they waited, and then there was a smell of pipe-tobacco, and
there was Nuth standing quite close to them.

"Lord," said the old woman whose bonnet was lined with red, "you did
make me start." And then she saw by his eyes that that was not the way
to speak to Mr. Nuth.

And at last Nuth spoke, and very nervously the old woman explained
that her son was a likely lad, and had been in business already but
wanted to better himself, and she wanted Mr. Nuth to teach him a
livelihood.

First of all Nuth wanted to see a business reference, and when he was
shown one from a jeweller with whom he happened to be hand-in-glove
the upshot of it was that he agreed to take young Tonker (for this was
the surname of the likely lad) and to make him his apprentice. And the
old woman whose bonnet was lined with red went back to her little