"Yes," said Ellen, "but there'll be a breeze from the river."
"Are you fond of the river?"
"It gets to seem like a friend."
She smiled and moved toward the door. She had learned her lesson well; while she was a housemaid she would do as housemaids did—or should. She carried with her now a pleasant anticipation—she had changed her mind, some day she would tell Stephen who she was. But the time was not yet ripe. In the doorway she paused.
"Would you like me to move your bed to the bay-window each evening?"
Stephen was watching her free walk and her straight shoulders and wishing for some young creature to walk and talk with, some boy or girl like this.
"Did you speak to me?"
She repeated her question.
"O, thank you; I'll do that when I want to sleep there."
He decided not to walk; he would call on Dr. and Mrs. Salter and tell them about Hilda and ask them to tell certain other persons. It was a duty which seemed suddenly pressing.