I sat down heavily and laid my hand on my heart.
She didn't seem, however, to be troubled with any sympathetic feelings, for I heard her mumble something about, "Why do folks climb stairs when they can't manage 'em?"
"But who has shown you up to me, then," she continued.
I could see it would be difficult for me, if not impossible, to get into conversation with this unpleasant woman, as she apparently had not yet had her "morning drop," and was therefore not amenable to any friendly approach.
I decided to come to the point at once.
"Miss Frick has recommended me to come to you, as I wanted a good washerwoman,—Miss Frick, who lives in Drammen Road."
The woman sat herself down in a chair right opposite me, and looked rather astonished.
"Do you go to the Fricks'?—You?" was the unflattering answer, as she critically surveyed me.
I regretted the plain attire, which I had thought would be suitable for my supposed errand; but there was no help for that now; I had to get along as best I could.
"I am studying for the church," I said with dignity, "and I am secretary to the women's mission, and we generally have the committee meetings at Miss Frick's."