“For a walk, sir,” replied Helen, nodding.
“At this hour? Bless me—bless me—bless me——”
He seemed apt to run off in this style, in an unending string of mild expletives. His head shook and his hands seemed palsied. But he was a polite old man.
“I beg of you, Miss, don’t go out without a bit of breakfast. My own coffee is dripping in the percolator. Let me give you a cup,” he said.
“Why—if it’s not too much trouble, sir——”
“This way, Miss,” he said, hurrying on before, and leading Helen to a cozy little room at the back. This corresponded with the housekeeper’s sitting-room and Helen believed it must be Mr. Lawdor’s own apartment.
He laid a small cloth with a flourish. He set forth a silver breakfast set. He did everything neatly and with an alacrity that surprised Helen in one so evidently decrepit.
“A chop, now, Miss? Or a rasher?” he asked, pointing to an array of electric appliances on the sideboard by which a breakfast might be “tossed up” in a hurry.
“No, no,” Helen declared. “Not so early. This nice coffee and these delicious rolls are enough until I have earned more.”
“Earned more, Miss?” he asked, in surprise.