“I’d do whatever I felt to be highest.”
To Letty this was a beautiful reply, and proof of a beautiful nature. Moreover, it was indirectly a compliment to herself, in that she could be credited with doing what she felt to be highest as well as anyone else. In her life hitherto she had been figuratively kicked and beaten into doing what she couldn’t resist. Now she was considered capable of acting worthily of her own accord. It inspired a new sentiment toward Miss Walbrook.
She thought, too, that Miss Walbrook liked her a little better. Perhaps it was the fulfillment of Steptoe’s adage, love-call wakes love-echo. She was sure that somehow this call had gone out from her to Miss Walbrook, and that it hadn’t gone out in vain.
It hadn’t gone out in vain, in that Miss Walbrook was able to say to herself, with some conviction, “That’s the way it will have to be done.” It was a way of which her experiences in Bleary Street had made her skeptical. Among those whom she called the lower orders innocence, ingenuousness, and integrity were qualities for which she had ceased to look. She didn’t look for them anywhere with much confidence; 243 but she had long ago come to the conclusion that the poor were schemers, and were obliged to be schemers because they were poor. Something in Letty impressed her otherwise. “That’s the way,” she continued to nod to herself. “It’s no use trusting to Rash. I’ll get her; and she’ll get him; and so we shall work it.”
Arrived in East Sixty-seventh Street she went in with Letty and had tea. But it was she who sat in dear Mrs. Allerton’s corner of the sofa, and when William brought in the tray she said, “Put it here, William,” as one who speaks with authority. Of this usurpation of the right to dispense hospitality Letty did not see the significance, being glad to have it taken off her hands.
Not so, however, with Steptoe who came in with a covered dish of muffins. Having placed it before Miss Walbrook he turned to Letty.
“Madam ain’t feelin’ well?”
Letty’s tone expressed her surprise. “Why, yes.”
“Madam’ll excuse me. As madam ain’t presidin’ at ’er own tyble I was afryde––”
It being unnecessary to say more he tiptoed out, leaving behind him a declaration of war, which Miss Walbrook, without saying anything in words, was not slow to pick up. “Insufferable,” was her comment to herself. Of the hostile forces against her this, she knew, was the most powerful.