She made no reply and backed away toward the door of the living-room, finishing the last strip of unscoured floor before she even replied. Then she got up and looked at her work admiringly.
"There!" she said as though to herself. "That's better."
The area of damp floor lay between them and when he made a step to relieve her of the bucket she had lifted, she waved him back.
"Don't you dare walk on it—after all my trouble. Go around the other way."
He obeyed with a meekness that surprised him, but when he reached the other door she had already emptied her bucket and her roving eye was seeking new fields to conquer.
"You've got to stop it at once," he insisted.
"It's the least I can do to earn my board. This room must be dusted, the bed made and—"
"No. I won't have it."
He took her by the elbows and pushed her out of the door to the chair on the porch into which she sank, red of face and out of breath.
"I'll only rest for a minute," she protested.