She waited until the car slowed down at a crossing. Then she made a sudden dart for the door. With equal suddenness Mrs. Enderby seized her arm.
“Sit down!” she said, in a singularly unpleasant whisper. “There shall be no scene. Sit down, I tell you!”
“I won’t!” replied Lexy, but just then the car started forward, and she fell back on the seat.
“You will come with me,” said Mrs. Enderby.
That overbearing tone, that grasp on her arm, were very nearly too much for Lexy. She had always been quick-tempered. All the Morans were, and were perversely proud of it, too; but Lexy had learned many lessons in a hard school. She had learned to control her temper, and she did so now. She was silent for a time.
“All right!” she agreed, at last. “I’ll come. I don’t see what else I can do—now; but after this I’ll have to use my own judgment, Mrs. Enderby.”
“You have none,” Mrs. Enderby told her calmly.
Lexy clenched her hands, and again was silent for a moment.
“I mean—” she began.
“I know very well what you mean,” said Mrs. Enderby. “You mean that you will keep faith with me no longer. I saw that. You wished to run off and tell your story to some one this afternoon. I stopped that. After this, I cannot stop you any longer. You will tell, but I think no one will listen to you. I shall deny it, and no one will be likely to listen to the word of a discharged employee.”