They were easily provided with rooms.
When Palma had taken off her bonnet in her chamber Mrs. Pole, who still stood up in her street costume, said:
“Now, ma’am, if you please, I must leave you for a little while.”
“What, Poley dear! Is there any more shopping to do? Have you forgotten anything?” demanded Palma.
“No, my child! But as we are to start to-morrow morning I must go and take leave of my kinfolks to-night.”
“Oh, Poley! And they live away downtown somewhere! And—you can never go alone!”
“Why not, child? I have been used to go alone all about the city all the days of my life, even when I was a young woman, and nothing ever happened to me, or even threatened to happen to me! And if nothing didn’t in my youth, nothing ain’t like to do it in my age! Don’t be uneasy, child! I’ll be back by ten o’clock, and one o’ my nephies will see me here safe.”
“But won’t you wait until after dinner? Cleve says they keep a sumptuous table here.”
“Then I hope you will get the good of it, my dear, but as for me, I must hurry away. I’ll make up for missing of my dinner by eating a hearty supper when I come back.”
“Take care, you must not risk a return of those horrid nights you had at Lull’s, you know,” said Palma, with a sudden recollection of the sleep-walking and magpie-hiding propensities that had been features of those disturbed nights, though features that happily Mrs. Pole had never suspected.