Then she started to hear two cabs drive up to the door; the "family" had at length arrived.
Ascott was there too.

Two new portmanteaus and a splendid hat-box east either ignominy or glory upon the poor Stowbury luggage; and--Elizabeth's sharp eye noticed--there was also his trunk which she had seen lying detained for rent in his Gower Street lodgings.
But he looked quite easy and comfortable: handed out his Aunt Johanna, commanded the luggage about, and paid the cabmen with such a magnificent air, that they touched their bats to him, and winked at one another as much as to say.

"That's a real gentleman!" In which statement the landlady evidently coincided, and courtesied low when Miss Leaf introducing him as "my nephew," hoped that a room could be found for him.

Which at last there was, by his appropriating Miss Leaf's, while she and Hilary took that at the top of the house.
But they agreed, Ascott must have a good airy room to study in.
"You know, my dear boy," said his Aunt Johanna to him--and at her tender tone he looked a little downcast, as when he was a small fellow and had been forgiven something -- "You know you will have to work very hard." "All right, aunt! I'm your man for that! This will be a jolly room; and I can smoke up the chimney capitally!" So they came down stairs quite cheerfully, and Ascott applied himself with the best of appetites to what he called a "hungry" tea.

True, the ham, which Elizabeth had to fetch from an eating house some streets off, cost two shillings a pound, and the eggs, which caused her another war below over the relighting of a fire to boil them, were dismissed by the young gentleman as "horrid stale." Still, woman-like, when there is a man in the question, his aunts let him, have his why.