She did not have to wait very long. The querulous voice of the old man broke the silence.
"When be you goin' back East? What time did you fix for goin'?" he asked.
She raised her head and looked at him squarely. "I didn't fix any time for going East again," she replied. "I came out West this time to stay."
"I thought you was on the stage," was the rejoinder.
"I've left the stage. My voice went when I got a bad cold again, and I couldn't stand the draughts of the theatre, and so I couldn't dance, either. I'm finished with the stage. I've come out here for good and all.
"Where did you think of livin' out here?"
"I'd like to have gone to Lumley's, but that's not possible, is it? Anyway, I couldn't afford it now. So I thought I'd stay here, if there was room for me."
"You want to board here?"
"I didn't put it to myself that way. I thought perhaps you'd be glad to have me. I'm handy. I can cook, I can sew, and I'm quite cheerful and kind. Then there's George—little George. I thought you'd like to have your grandson here with you."
"I've lived without him—or his father—for eight years, an' I could bear it a while yet, mebbe."