“Coals!” purred Jill with evident relief, and then he noticed that she was shivering slightly.
“Come in,” she cried.
The shuffling re-continued but instead of the appearance of the coals the sound merely heralded a retreat, whoever it was had commenced the descent, of that there could be no shadow of a doubt. Jill sprang up and went to the door, and St. John heard her remonstrating at some length with a person named Isobel, an obdurate person seemingly, and one who used the expression aint a good deal, and found some difficulty with her aspirates. After a long and subdued warfare of words the shuffling feet recommenced their descent, and then the door flew open and Miss Erskine appeared dragging in the scuttle. St. John strode swiftly to her assistance but Jill waved him peremptorily back.
“Thank you,” she said, “I can manage; it is not at all heavy.”
“No,” he answered, giving her a straight look as he grasped the handle, “not more than quarter of a ton I should say. Allow me if you please.”
Jill released her hold and watched him with limp resignation; that deft usage of her own weapons had been too much for her. It was ungenerous of him, she considered, and to do him justice he was rather of the same opinion.
“There!” he exclaimed, as he threw on fresh coals, and, going down on his knees, raked out the dead ashes from the lower bars, “it will soon burn up now. Had the cold upset Isobel’s equilibrium too?”
It was an unlucky slip, but fortunately for his own peace of mind, Mr St. John did not notice the offensive and unnecessary little word at the end of his query, nor, having his back towards her, could he see Jill’s quick flush of annoyance.
“I don’t understand you,” she answered curtly.
“I beg your pardon,” he remarked, nettled by her tone. “I hope you don’t think me impertinent; but I thought there had been a little difficulty about bringing in the coals.”