The things we do!

I need not say
that such horrors as occurred at Mrs. Bugsby's never befell in Mrs.
Honeyman's establishment. Every room was fiercely swept and sprinkled,
and watched by cunning eyes which nothing could escape; curtains were
taken down, mattresses explored, every bone in bed dislocated and washed
as soon as a lodger took his departure. And as for cribbing meat or
sugar, Sally might occasionally abstract a lump or two, or pop a
veal-cutlet into her mouth while bringing the dishes downstairs:--Sallies
would--giddy creatures bred in workhouses; but Hannah might be entrusted
with untold gold and uncorked brandy; and Miss Honeyman would as soon
think of cutting a slice off Hannah's nose and devouring it, as of
poaching on her lodgers' mutton. The best mutton-broth, the best
veal-cutlets, the best necks of mutton and French beans, the best fried
fish and plumpest partridges, in all Brighton, were to be had at Miss
Honeyman's--and for her favourites the best Indian curry and rice, coming
from a distinguished relative, at present an officer in Bengal.


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