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148
The Diary of a Nobody
·
George Grossmith Weedon Grossmith
9
I
took
a
walk
round
the
garden
three
or
four
times,
feeling
the
need
of
fresh
air.
On
returning
Gowing
noticed
I
was
not
smoking:
offered
me
another
cigar,
which
I
politely
declined.
Gowing
began
his
usual
sniffing,
so,
anticipating
him,
I
said:
“You’re
not
going
to
complain
of
the
smell
of
paint
again?”
He
said:
“No,
not
this
time;
but
I’ll
tell
you
what,
I
distinctly
smell
dry
rot.”
I
don’t
often
make
jokes,
but
I
replied:
“You’re
talking
a
lot
of
dry
rot
yourself.”
I
could
not
help
roaring
at
this,
and
Carrie
said
her
sides
quite
ached
with
laughter.
I
never
was
so
immensely
tickled
by
anything
I
have
ever
said
before.
I
actually
woke
up
twice
during
the
night,
and
laughed
till
the
bed
shook.
APRIL
13.—
An
extraordinary
coincidence:
Carrie
had
called
in
a
woman
to
make
some
chintz
covers
for
our
drawing-room
chairs
and
sofa
to
prevent
the
sun
fading
the
green
rep
of
the
furniture.
I
saw
the
woman,
and
recognised
her
as
a
woman
who
used
to
work
years
ago
for
my
old
aunt
at
Clapham.
It
only
shows
how
small
the
world
is.
APRIL
14.—
Spent
the
whole
of
the
afternoon
in
the
garden,
having
this
morning
picked
up
at
a
bookstall
for
fivepence
a
capital
little
book,
in
good
condition,
on
Gardening.
I
procured
and
sowed
some
half-hardy
annuals
in
what
I
fancy
will
be
a
warm,
sunny
border.
I
thought
of
a
joke,
and
called
out
Carrie.
Carrie
came
out
rather
testy,
I
thought.
I
said:
“I
have
just
discovered
we
have
got
a
lodging-house.”
She
replied:
“How
do
you
mean?”
I
said:
“Look
at
the
boarders.”
Carrie
said:
“Is
that
all
you
wanted
me
for?”
I
said:
“Any
other
time
you
would
have
laughed
at
my
little
pleasantry.”
Carrie
said:
“Certainly—
at
any
other
time,
but
not
when
I
am
busy
in
the
house.”
The
stairs
looked
very
nice.
Gowing
called,
and
said
the
stairs
looked
all
right,
but
it
made
the
banisters
look
all
wrong,
and
suggested
a
coat
of
paint
on
them
also,
which
Carrie
quite
agreed
with.
I
walked
round
to
Putley,
and
fortunately
he
was
out,
so
I
had
a
good
excuse
to
let
the
banisters
slide.
By-the-by,
that
is
rather
funny.
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