Pennycherry's: stingy old cat."

Constables whose beat included Bloomsbury Square had their reasons for
not liking Mrs. Pennycherry. Indeed it might have been difficult to
discover any human being with reasons for liking that sharp-featured
lady. Maybe the keeping of second-rate boarding houses in the
neighbourhood of Bloomsbury does not tend to develop the virtues of
generosity and amiability.

Meanwhile the stranger, proceeding npon his way, had rung the bell of
Number Forty-eight. Mrs. Pennycherry, peeping from the area and
catching a glimpse, above the railings, of a handsome if somewhat
effeminate masculine face, hastened to readjust her widow's cap before
the looking-glass while directing Mary Jane to show the stranger,
should he prove a problematical boarder, into the dining-room, and to
light the gas.

"And don't stop gossiping, and don't you take it upon yourself to
answer questions. Say I'll be up in a minute," were Mrs.
Pennycherry's further instructions, "and mind you hide your hands as
much as you can."

***

"What are you grinning at?" demanded Mrs. Pennycherry, a couple of
minutes later, of the dingy Mary Jane.

"Wasn't grinning," explained the meek Mary Jane, "was only smiling to
myself."