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148
The Diary of a Nobody
·
George Grossmith Weedon Grossmith
32
JUNE
6.—
Trillip
brought
round
the
shirts
and,
to
my
disgust,
his
charge
for
repairing
was
more
than
I
gave
for
them
when
new.
I
told
him
so,
and
he
impertinently
replied:
“Well,
they
are
better
now
than
when
they
were
new.”
I
paid
him,
and
said
it
was
a
robbery.
He
said:
“If
you
wanted
your
shirt-fronts
made
out
of
pauper-linen,
such
as
is
used
for
packing
and
bookbinding,
why
didn’t
you
say
so?”
JUNE
7.—
A
dreadful
annoyance.
Met
Mr.
Franching,
who
lives
at
Peckham,
and
who
is
a
great
swell
in
his
way.
I
ventured
to
ask
him
to
come
home
to
meat-tea,
and
take
pot-luck.
I
did
not
think
he
would
accept
such
a
humble
invitation;
but
he
did,
saying,
in
a
most
friendly
way,
he
would
rather
“peck”
with
us
than
by
himself.
I
said:
“We
had
better
get
into
this
blue
’bus.”
He
replied:
“No
blue-bussing
for
me.
I
have
had
enough
of
the
blues
lately.
I
lost
a
cool
‘thou’
over
the
Copper
Scare.
Step
in
here.”
We
drove
up
home
in
style,
in
a
hansom-cab,
and
I
knocked
three
times
at
the
front
door
without
getting
an
answer.
I
saw
Carrie,
through
the
panels
of
ground-glass
(with
stars),
rushing
upstairs.
I
told
Mr.
Franching
to
wait
at
the
door
while
I
went
round
to
the
side.
There
I
saw
the
grocer’s
boy
actually
picking
off
the
paint
on
the
door,
which
had
formed
into
blisters.
No
time
to
reprove
him;
so
went
round
and
effected
an
entrance
through
the
kitchen
window.
I
let
in
Mr.
Franching,
and
showed
him
into
the
drawing-room.
I
went
upstairs
to
Carrie,
who
was
changing
her
dress,
and
told
her
I
had
persuaded
Mr.
Franching
to
come
home.
She
replied:
“How
can
you
do
such
a
thing?
You
know
it’s
Sarah’s
holiday,
and
there’s
not
a
thing
in
the
house,
the
cold
mutton
having
turned
with
the
hot
weather.”
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