“You needn’t suppose any such thing,” said the doctor, facing Miss Skinlin; “she hasn’t the first red cent.”
“Dreadful!” shrieked Miss Skinlin. “What is she going to do?”
“That tells the whole story,” said the doctor; “sure enough, what is she going to do?”
“I suppose she’ll live with you,” said Miss Skinlin, suggestively.
“You needn’t suppose that, either,” retorted the doctor. “It isn’t every person, Miss Skinlin, who is agreeable enough to be taken into one’s house; besides, she has got folks of her own.”
“Oh,—ah!”—said Miss Skinlin; “rich?”
“Yes, very,” said the doctor; “unless some of their poor relatives turn up, in which case, they are always dreadfully out of pocket.”
“I un-der-stand,” said Miss Skinlin, with a significant nod. “Well; I don’t see anything left for her to do, but to earn her living, like some other folks.”
“P-r-e-c-i-s-e-l-y,” said the doctor.