Produced by Al Haines
First Impression, September, 1904
New Impressions, September, 1904 (twice).
The wrapper design is reproduced, by special permission, from a painting by Mr. Louis Loeb of Miss Eleanor Robson, the original "Mary Ann."
Sometimes Lancelot's bell rang up Mrs. Leadbatter herself, but far moreoften merely Mary Ann.
The first time Lancelot saw Mary Ann she was cleaning the steps. Heavoided treading upon her, being kind to animals. For the moment she wasmerely a quadruped, whose head was never lifted to the stars. Her fadedprint dress showed like the quivering hide of some crouching animal.There were strange irregular splashes of pink in the hide, standing outin bright contrast with the neutral background. These were scraps of theoriginal material neatly patched in.
The cold, damp steps gave Lancelot a shudder, for the air was raw. Hepassed by the prostrate figure as quickly as he could, and hastened tothrow himself into the easy-chair before the red fire.
There was a lamp-post before the door, so he knew the house from itsneighbours. Baker's Terrace as a whole was a defeated aspiration aftergentility. The more auspicious houses were marked by white stones, thesteps being scrubbed and hearthstoned almost daily; the gloomierdoorsteps were black, except on Sundays. Thus variety was achieved byhouses otherwise as monotonous and prosaic as a batch of fourpennyloaves. This was not the reason why the little South London side-streetwas called Baker's Terrace, though it might well seem so; for Baker wasthe name of the builder, a worthy gentleman whose years and virtues maystill be deciphered on a doddering, round-shouldered stone in a deceasedcemetery not far from the scene of his triumphs.
The second time Lancelot saw Mary Ann he did not remember having seen herbefore. This time she was a biped, and wore a white cap. Besides, hehardly glanced at her. He was in a bad temper, and Beethoven was barkingterribly at the intruder who stood quaking in the doorway, so that thecrockery clattered on the tea-tray she bore. With a smothered oathLancelot caught up the fiery little spaniel and rammed him into thepocket of his dressing-gown, where he quivered into silence like a struckgong. While the girl was laying his breakfast, Lancelot, who was lookingmoodily at the pattern of the carpet as if anxious to improve upon it,was vaguely conscious of relief in being spared his landlady'sconversation. For Mrs. Leadbatter was a garrulous body, who sufferedfrom the delusion that small-talk is a form of politeness, and that herconversation was a part of the "all inclusive" her lodgers stipulatedfor. The disease was hereditary, her father having been a barber, andremarkable for the coolness with which, even as a small boy whosefunction was lathering and nothing more, he exchanged views about theweather with his victims.
The third time Lancelot saw Mary Ann he noticed that she was ratherpretty. She had a slight, well-built