"Will there be anything else?" inquired Julia, standing aloof.
Two-eighteen turned reluctantly from the mirror and picked up a jewelled gold-mesh bag that lay on the bed. From it she extracted a coin and held it out to Julia. It was a generous coin. Julia looked at it. Her smouldering wrath burst into flame.
"Keep it!" she said savagely, and was out of the room and down the hall.
Sadie Corn, at her desk, looked up quickly as Julia turned the corner. Julia, her head held high, kept her eyes resolutely away from Sadie.
"Oh, Julia, I want to talk to you!" said Sadie Corn as Julia reached the stairway. Julia began to descend the stairs, unheeding. Sadie Corn rose and leaned over the railing, her face puckered with anxiety. "Now, Julia, girl, don't hold that up against me! I didn't mean it. You know that. You wouldn't be mad at a poor old woman that's half crazy with neuralgy!" Julia hesitated, one foot poised to take the next step. "Come on up," coaxed Sadie Corn, "and tell me what Two-eighteen's wearing this evening. I'm that lonesome, with nothing to do but sit here and watch the letter-ghosts go flippering down the mailchute! Come on!"
"What made you say you'd report me?" demanded Julia bitterly.
"I'd have said the same thing to my own daughter if I had one. You know yourself I'd bite my tongue out first!"
"Well!" said Julia slowly, and relented. She came up the stairs almost shyly. "Neuralgy any better?"
"Worse!" said Sadie Corn cheerfully.
Julia leaned against the desk sociably and glanced down the hall.