Mrs. Clapham, backing towards the road, plunged her hand in her pocket with the vim of a diver diving for pearls, and brought up the precious object with a triumphant chuckle.
“You’d best leave it with me, hadn’t you?” Mrs. Bell suggested, eyeing it greedily, but the charwoman shook her head.
“Nay, it’s over precious to let out o’ my sight. I just couldn’t bring myself to part with it, and that’s the truth!”
“What, it’ll take no harm, will it, stopping another night along o’ me?” The oldest tenant stiffened angrily.
“Nay, not it!” The visitor threw her an appeasing smile. “But I can’t part with it, all the same.”
“You’re not thinking I’ll loss it, surely?” Mrs. Bell asked in rising tones, “me as has had it a couple o’ months back, and goodness knows how many times afore!”
A demand for apology was obviously in the air, and Mrs. Clapham hastened to satisfy it.
“As if I’d ever think o’ such a thing!” she assured her amiably. “I just like t’ feel on’t, that’s all!” She turned it lovingly, if shamefacedly, in her fingers. “And if I slip up first thing while morning, as I’m thinking I will, I shan’t need to come knocking you out o’ bed.”
“I’m up as early as most folks, I reckon!” Mrs. Bell replied swiftly, and this time, to Mrs. Clapham’s alarm, in tones of active offence. But the next moment she had remembered her obligations as hostess, and pulled herself back to her former graciousness. “Ay, well, you know what suits you best,” she hurried on, again affecting her hearer with a reminiscent shudder. “But you’re a deal more likely to go lossing it than me, taking it to a fresh spot and leaving it goodness knows where!”
“I’ll not loss it, not I! I’ll bare let it out o’ my fingers till to-morrow morn!” The charwoman waved it exultingly, backing still further towards the step. “Like as not I’ll sleep with it under my pillow!” she added, chuckling ... and found herself slipped off the step and sitting heavily in the open road.