"Oh, yes; I had forgotten Balaam. May I ride him home? Will you have him brought around for me?"
"Eh? What? Not so fast—not quite so fast! No, I don't mean the stairs. I can manage this pace for them. I mean the donkey. It came here of its own accord. It gave me an idea. If your brother wants to sell him—By the way, how do you expect to pay the rent?"
Amy stopped short, halfway down the stairs, and so suddenly that Mr. Wingate remonstrated.
"If you'd give warning of these spasmodic actions of yours, it would be more comfortable for those depending on you. There, please move along."
"The rent? I had not thought. Didn't my mother attend to that?"
"For the first quarter year, she did. To whom must I look now?"
Unmindful, since this new distressing question had been raised, how much she inconvenienced him, Amy sat plump down and leaned her head against the hand-rail.
It always appeared to aid her reflective powers if she could rest her troubled head against something material.
"I'll try to think. I earn two dollars and a half a week."