“What is it, dear?” asked one of the young ladies, as her eyes roved over Carmen’s tense, motionless figure.
“You––creature!” cried Kathleen, spurting her venom at Carmen, while her eyes snapped angrily and her hands twitched. “When the front door is closed against you, you sneak in through the back door! Leave this house, instantly, or I shall have you thrown into the street!”
“Why, Kathleen dear!” exclaimed one of her companions. “She is only a reporter!”
“She is a low, negro wench!” cried Kathleen maliciously. “She comes from a brothel! She foisted herself upon society, and was discovered and kicked out! Her father is a dirty negro priest, and her mother a low––”
Haynerd rushed to the maddened girl and clapped his hand over her mouth. “Hush, for God’s sake, Miss Ames!” Then, to her companions, “Take her away!” he pleaded. “And we will leave at once!”
But a house detective, attracted by the loud conversation, had come up and interposed. At his signal another one approached. “Bring Mr. Ames,” he quietly commanded. “I can not put them out if they have his permission to remain,” he explained to the angry Kathleen.
In a few moments, during which the little group stood tense and quiet, Ames himself appeared.
“Well?” he demanded. “Ah!” as his eyes lighted upon Carmen. “My little girl! And––so this is your assistant?” turning inquiringly to Haynerd. “By George! Her article in last week’s Social Era was a corker. But,” staring from Kathleen to the others, “what’s the row?”
“I want that creature put out of the house!” demanded Kathleen, trembling with rage and pointing to Carmen.