"Who is Miss Pell?"
"She's one as was, sir, but now--ain't," answered Mrs. Snummitt and,
nodding gloomily, she took down the brandy in three separate and
distinct gulps, closed her eyes, sighed, and nodded her poke bonnet
more gloomily than before. "Little Miss Pell, sir, 'ad a attic three
doors down, sir, and pore little Miss Pell 'as been and gone
and--done it! Which do it I knowed she would."
"Done what?" inquired Barnabas.
"Five long year come shine, come rain, I've knowed pore Miss Pell,
and though small, a real lady she were, but lonesome. Last night as
ever was, she met me on the stairs, and by the same token I 'ad a
scrubbing-brush in one 'and and a bucket in the other, me 'aving
been charing for the first floor front, a 'andsome gent with
whiskers like a lord, and 'oh, Mrs. Snummitt!' she sez and all of a
twitter she was too, 'dear Mrs. Snummitt,' sez she, 'I'm a-going
away on a journey,' she sez, 'but before I go,' she sez, 'I should
like to kiss you good-by, me being so lonesome,' she sez. Which kiss
me she did, sir, and likewise wep' a couple o' big tears over me,
pore soul, and then, run away into 'er dark little attic and locked
'erself in, and--done it!"
"What--what did she do?"
"'Ung 'erself in the cupboard, sir. Kissed me only last night she did
and wep' over me, and now--cold and stiff, pore soul?"
"But why did she do it?" cried Barnabas, aghast.
"Well, there was the lonesomeness and--well, she 'adn't eat anything
for two days it seems, and--"
"You mean that she was hungry--starving?"
"Generally, sir. But things was worse lately on account of 'er heyes
getting weak. 'Mrs. Snummitt,' she used to say, 'my heyes is getting
worse and worse,' she'd say, 'but I shall work as long as I can see
the stitches, and then, Mrs. Snummitt, I must try a change o' scene,'
she used to say with a little shiver like. And I used to wonder
where she'd go, but--I know now, and--well--the Bow Street Runners
'as just gone up to cut the pore soul down."
"And she killed herself--because she was hungry!" said Barnabas,
staring wide-eyed.
"Oh, yes, lots on 'em do, I've knowed three or four as went and
done it, and it's generally hunger as is to blame for it. There's
Mr. Bimby, now, a nice little gent, but doleful like 'is flute, 'e's
always 'ungry 'e is, I'll take my oath--shouldn't wonder if 'e don't
come to it one o' these days. And talking of 'im I must be going, sir,
and thank you kindly, I'm sure."
"Why, then," said Barnabas as she bobbed him another curtsy,
"will you ask Mr. Bimby if he will do me the pleasure to step down
and take supper with me?"