But now that she was here, she was determined to make the most of the situation.
“I shall take charge here,” she announced to Mr. Sikes. “Is this the way upstairs?”
Mr. Sikes nodded. “But if I was you,” he said, “I’d hold my horses.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I guess you’d better ask Serepty Grimes before you begin to take charge here,” said he grimly.
“Serepty who?”
“Grimes. She’s running this house at present. Her husband used to run the Rumley sawmill before he died. Serepty’s running it now.”
“That doesn’t cut any figure with me,” announced Mrs. Gooch firmly. “I am going up to Mary’s room—her name is Mary, isn’t it?—to see what there is to do for—”
“Wait a minute, Ida,” interrupted her husband. “I wouldn’t go busting into that room until I found out whether I was wanted or not.”
“Let her go, man,” cried Mr. Sikes, eagerly. “But if she was my wife—and thank God, I’m a single man—I’d stand at the foot of the stairs to ketch her when she comes down.”