"Good as gold, then!" their pilot said. "We'll go to it. By-by, Polly!"
She marched into the basement. Bess would never have dared proceed that far had it not been for Nan's presence.
A woman with straggling gray hair met them at the door of the long dining-room. She had a tired and almost toothless smile; but had it not been for her greasy wrapper, uncombed hair and grimy nails, Mother Beasley might have been rather attractive.
"Good afternoon, dearies," she said. "Dinner's most over; but maybe we can find something for you. You goin' to eat, Inez?"
"Ev'ry chance't I get," declared the flower-seller, promptly.
"Sit right down," said Mrs. Beasley, pointing to the end of a long table, the red-and-white cloth of which was stained with the passage of countless previous meals, and covered with the crumbs from "crusty" bread.
Bess looked more and more doubtful. Nan was more curious than she was hungry. Inez sat down promptly and began scraping the crumbs together in a little pile, which pile when completed, she transferred to the oil-cloth covered floor with a dexterous flip of the knife.
"Come on!" she said. "Shall I order for youse?"
"We are in your hands, Inez," declared Nan, gravely. "Do with us as you see fit."
"Mercy!" murmured Bess, sitting down gingerly enough, after removing her coat in imitation of her chum.