'Thank you, I do,' was Sidney's reply.
Indeed he had climbed these stairs innumerable times during the last
three years; the musty smells were associated with ever so many
bygone thoughts and states of feeling; the stains on the wall (had
it been daylight), the irregularities of the bare wooden steps, were
remembrancers of projects and hopes and disappointments. For many
months now every visit had been with heavier heart; his tap at the
Hewetts' door had a melancholy sound to him.
A woman's voice bade him enter. He stepped into a room which was not
disorderly or unclean, but presented the chill discomfort of
poverty. The principal, almost the only, articles of furniture were
a large bed, a washhand stand; a kitchen table, and two or three
chairs, of which the cane seats were bulged and torn. A few
meaningless pictures hung here and there, and on the mantel-piece,
which sloped forward somewhat, stood some paltry ornaments, secured
m their places by a piece of string stretched in front of them. The
living occupants were four children and their mother. Two little
girls, six and seven years old respectively, were on the floor near
the fire; a boy of four was playing with pieces of fire-wood at the
table.
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