“Do you belong?” I cried, more delighted than ever.
“O, yes,” said she. “I think it’s a duty. I worked very hard at the last election. I spent days distributing packages of—”
Then I made, I’m sorry to say, a false step. I observed, interrupting:
“But it’s ticklish work now, eh? Six months’ ‘hard’ wouldn’t be pleasant, would it?”
“What do you mean, Mr.—er Carter?” she asked.
I was still blind. I believe I winked, and I’m sure I whispered, “Tea.”
Miss Milton drew herself up very straight.
“I do not bribe,” she said. “What I distribute is pamphlets.”
Now I suppose that “pamphlets” and “blankets don’t really sound much alike, but I was agitated.
“Quite right,” said I. “Poor old things! They can’t afford proper fuel.”