Whereat Mother Brock laughed good-naturedly. She was a broad-minded bad woman, and was right according to her lights. Poor Mrs. A. was a respectable, haggard woman, and was right according to her lights, and to Mrs. Next-door's, perfectly so―they being friends―and vice versa. None of them knew, or would have taken into consideration, the fact that the landlord had lost all his money in a burst financial institution, and half his houses in the general depression, and depended for food for his family on the somewhat doubtful rents of the remainder. So they were all right according to their different lights.
Mrs. Aspinall even sought sympathy of 'John,' the Chinaman (with whom she had dealt for four months only), and got it. He also, in all simplicity, took a hint that wasn't intended. He said: 'Al li'. Pay bimeby. Nexy time Flyday. Me tlust." Then he departed with his immortalized smile. It would almost appear that he was wrong―according to our idea of Chinese lights.
Mrs. Aspinall went to the court―it was a small local court. Mrs. Next-door was awfully sorry, but she couldn't possibly get out that morning. The contractor had the landlord up as a witness. The landlord and the P.M. nodded pleasantly to each other, and wished each other good-morning.…Verdict for plaintiff with costs.…'Next case!'.…'You mustn't take up the time of the court, my good woman.'…'Now, constable!'.…'Arder in the court!'.…'Now, my good woman,' said the policeman in an undertone, 'you must go out; there's another case on―come now.'
