hoarders, and give, say, a ton of fuel to the hospital at once, in lieu of her usual smaller Christmas contribution, without making further inquiries in the proper quarters as to the legal liabilities of having, so she ascertained, three tons in her cellar, and as soon as her visitor had left her this morning, she popped out to see Mr. Wootten, her coal-merchant. She returned in a state of fury, for there were no regulations whatever in existence with regard to the amount of coal that any householder might choose to amass, and Mr. Wootten complimented her on her prudence in having got in a reasonable supply, for he thought it quite probable that, if the coal strike took place, there would be some difficulty in month’s time from now in replenishing cellars. “But we’ve had a good supply all the summer,” added agreeable Mr. Wootten, “and all my customers have got their cellars well stocked.”
Diva rapidly recollected that the perfidious Elizabeth as among them.
“O but, Mr. Wootten,” she said, “Miss Mapp popped—dropped in to see me just now. Told me she had hardly got any.”
Mr. Wootten turned up his ledger. It was not etiquette to disclose the affairs of one client to another, but if there was a cantankerous customer, one who was never satisfied with prices and quality, that client was Miss Mapp…. He allowed a broad grin to overspread his agreeable face.
“Well, ma’am, if in a month’s time I’m short of coal, there are friends of yours in Tilling who can let you have plenty,” he permitted himself to say….
It was idle to attempt to cut out bunches of roses while her hand was so feverish, and she trundled up and down the High Street to cool off. Had she not been so prudent as to make inquiries, as likely as not she would have sent a ton
