"Oh, no, you aren't," contradicted Miss Tripp sweetly. "I never felt more relieved and—and happy than when I looked up to find your big umbrella between my head and the storm. I went off to town in such a hurry this morning that I left my umbrella in the rack in Elizabeth's hall."
He tried not to look his curiosity; then blurted out his uppermost thought. "You looked awfully done up when I overtook you; what—er——"
"I was," she confessed. "I was ready to weep with rage and disappointment. Have you ever felt that way?"
"Well, no," said Mr. Hickey candidly; "I can't say that I've ever got to the point you mention. I don't believe I've shed a tear since—since my mother died. She was the only person in the world who cared a rap whether I sank or swam, survived or perished, and after she went. I—— But I've been angry enough to—er—cuss a little now and then. Of course ladies can't do that, so——"
Evelyn smiled appreciatively. "It might have relieved my feelings if you had been there to use a little—strong language for me," she said. Then she told him something of her visit to Mrs. Crownenshield and its outcome.
"Hum, yes!" he observed. "I fancy I know her sort, and I—er—despise it. What did you want her to do for you? There, now I've put my foot in! It's none of my business of course, Miss Tripp, and you needn't tell me."
Evelyn hesitated. "I shouldn't like you to think I'm whining or complaining," she said soberly; "but there's no reason why you—or anyone—shouldn't know that I am looking for work. I never have worked"—the brave voice faltered a little—"but that's no reason why I shouldn't work now. In fact, it's a reason why I must. Everything was different when I was a girl to what it is now," she went on, calmly ignoring her "feelings-on-the-subject-of-her-age" which had of late years been abnormally sensitive. "I wasn't brought up to do anything more useful than to sew lace on a pocket-handkerchief and play a few easy pieces on the piano. Of course I learned a little French—enough to chatter ungrammatically when we went abroad—and a little bad German, and a little—a very little execrable Italian—nothing of a usable quantity or quality, you see; so now I find myself——"
"But why? What has happened?" he urged in a low voice.
"The usual and what should have been the expected, I suppose," she told him. "We—that is mother and I—lost our money. We never thought of such a thing happening. We had always drawn checks for what we wanted, and that was all there was of it—till the bank closed, and then of course we had to think."
"I'm—Confound it; it's too bad!" he said strongly. "Banks have no business to close; it's—er—it's a national disgrace. There ought to be some law to—er—put a stop to such outrages on civilisation!"