The Town Traveller

A Mrs. Quodling, a widow, or believed to be a widow, came in for a large sum of money under the will of Lord Polperro… This will was contested by the family; a very complicated affair, Beeching tells me.

Lodging farce hooks to contested baronial will and missing-uncle chase — plot sealed when Gammon rests at Mrs Clover's door — so plot scores 85.

"Patience, Polly! All in good time, my dear. Wrong foot out of bed this morning?" Her door slammed, and there followed a lazy laugh from Mr. Gammon's chamber.

Gammon's lazy laugh against Polly's slam individuates lodging rivals before Polperro — so cast scores 86.

"Bring 'em up, and put 'em under the door. And tell Mrs. Bubb I'll have breakfast in bed; you can put it down outside and shout. And I say, Moggie, ask somebody to run across and get me a 'Police News' and 'Clippings' and 'The Kennel'--understand? Two eggs, Moggie, and three rashers, toasted crisp--understand?"

Rapid orders set traveller bounce that the Polperro middle never fully kills — so pace scores 87.

Turning to Polly's scrawl (which contrasted so strongly with Mrs. Clover's neat, clear hand), Gammon discovered the passage which had disturbed his correspondent. "You mustn't expect me to go into black for your husband, for uncle I won't call him."

Handwriting contrast as character — scrawl vs neat shopkeeper — so prose scores 86.

Moggie, the general, knocked at Mr. Gammon's door, and was answered by a sleepy "Hallo?" "Mrs. Bubb wants to know if you know what time it is, sir? 'Cos it's half-past eight an' more."

General, landlady, shared floor — commercial lodging London before china-shop and broughams — so world scores 85.

"All right!" sounded cheerfully from within. "Any letters for me?" "Yes, sir; a 'eap."

Cheerful heap of letters before mystery — inviting commercial energy — so hook scores 88.

For a minute or two I thought I'd found your uncle; I really did. Gosh! I said to myself, there's Clover at last! I wonder I didn't pin him like a bull terrier. But, as you know, I'm cautious--that's how I've made my fortune, Polly.

Traveller caution applied to aristocratic uncle-hunt — trade mind inside will farce — so innov scores 84.

"I shall certainly keep on the shop," were her last words before the door opened. "I've got used to it, and--it'll keep me out of mischief." Her merry little laugh echoed in Gammon's ears all the way home, and for hours after.

Shop kept; laugh follows him home — rest as courtship not retirement — so ending scores 85.