I only mention this little happening to show whether, in this case, Eliza or I was right.
I put a few of the cards in my pocket, and the rest were packed away in a drawer. A few weeks afterwards I was not at all pleased when I found Eliza using some of her cards for winding silk. She said that it did not prevent them from being used again if they were ever wanted.
“Pardon me,” I said, “but cards we find it necessary to leave with people can hardly be too clean. Please don't do it again!”
That evening Eliza told me that No. 14 in our road had been let to some people called Popworth.
So far was Eliza's mother from thinking that the money for the cards had been spent unnecessarily, that she sent Eliza a present of five shillings, and a parcel with three pounds of beef and a nice apron.
Popworth “That must be young Popworth, who used
[pɑp wɜrθ]
THE CARDS
to be in our office,” I said. “I heard that he was going to be married this year. You must certainly call and leave cards.
“Which sort, and how many?”
“Without looking it up in a book, I am unable to say precisely. These things are very much a matter of taste. Leave enough – say one of each sort for each person in the house.”
“How am I to know how many persons there are?”
“See if they get their meat from the same shop as ourselves, and, if so, ask the butcher.”
On the following day I said that I thought that Popworth must have come in for some money, to be taking so large a house, and I hoped she had left the cards.
“I asked the butcher, and he said there was Popworth, his wife, two sisters, a German friend, and eleven children. That means six- teen persons, and forty-eight cards altogether. You see, I still remember your rule.”
"My dear Eliza,” I said, “I told you plainly that it was a matter of taste. You ought not to have left forty-eight at once."
“Oh, do you expect me to keep running
Come in for money
= get
money
(usually after another person’s death
Keep = continue
backwards and forwards leaving a few at a time? I've got something else to do. There are three pairs of your socks in the basket waiting to be darned, as it is.”
“But, good heavens! That Poptworth can't be my Popworth. If he's only married this year, he can't in the nature of things have got eleven children. And a house like this can't call on a house like that unless there is some reason for it.”
“That's what I thought.”
“Then, why in the world did you call?”
“I didn't. Who said I did?”
I began to feel a little happier. Later in the evening, when Eliza took a card, tore a bit out of each side, and began winding silk on it, I thought it wiser to say nothing. It is better sometimes to give the idea that you have not seen things.
