The woman was clearly resentful rather than grateful.
Mr. Trupp, amused, pursued his mild persecution with the glee of the tormenting male.
"Let me see. What's your name?"
For a second the woman hesitated—baffled it seemed and fighting. Then she said with a note of obvious relief as of one who has overcome a difficulty.
"Anne, I believe."
"Thank you, Mrs. Anne, I'll remember."
He rolled on his way chuckling to himself.
The woman watched his back suspiciously from the door.
Then she retired, not into the kitchen, but into her lodger's sitting-room.
"Your father's spy," she said tartly.