"Stuyvesant—three, nine, seven,"—this before she could remember that she was not planning to sleep under the Rectory roof again.
"Don't I git more'n a number?" persisted Tottie. "Whom 'm I to ask for?"
"Just say 'Mrs. Milo.'"
"Stuyvesant—three, nine, seven, Mrs. Milo," repeated Tottie, leaning down at the table to note the data. Then with the information safely registered, "Of course, it'll be worth somethin' to you."
Mrs. Milo almost reeled. She opened her mouth for breath.
"Why—why—you mean——" All her boasted poise was gone.
Tottie grinned—with a slanting look from between half-lowered lashes. "I mean—money," she said softly; and gave Mrs. Milo a playful little poke.
"Money!"—too frightened, now, even to resent familiarity. "Money!
Oh, you wouldn't——! You don't——!"
"Yes, ma'am! You want somethin' from me, and I can give it to y', but you're goin' to pay for it!"
The double door opened. Sue entered, her look startled and inquiring.
It was plain that she had overheard.
Mrs. Milo pretended not to have noted Sue's coming. "Yes, very well," she said to Tottie, as if continuing a conversation that was casual; but the blue eyes were frightened. "Thank you so much!"—warmly. "And isn't that a bell I hear ringing?" She gave the landlady a glance full of meaning.