The lodgings she let
enabled her to live rent-free and rate-free. Clem's earnings at an
artificial-flower factory more than paid for that young lady's board
and clothing, and all other outlay was not worth mentioning as a
deduction from the income created by her sundry investments. Her
husband--ten years deceased--had been a 'moulder'; he earned on
an average between three and four pounds a week, and was so
prudently disposed that, for the last decade of his life, he made it
a rule never to spend a farthing of his wages. Mrs. Peckover at that
time kept a small beer-shop in Rosoman Street--small and
unpretending in appearance, but through it there ran a beery
Pactolus. By selling the business shortly after her husband's death,
Mrs. Peckover realised a handsome capital. She retired into private
life, having a strong sense of personal dignity, and feeling it
necessary to devote herself to the moral training of her only child.
At half-past eleven Mrs. Peckover was arrayed in her mourning
robes--new, dark-glistening. During her absence Clem had kept guard
over Mrs. Gully, whom it was very difficult indeed to restrain from
the bottles and decanters; the elder lady coming to relieve, Clem
could rush away and don her own solemn garments.
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