“Oh, I don’t think we’ll have to shut it off, lady,” said the uglier man, his companion having already disappeared into the black depths of the cellar. “If we do I’ll let you know.”
“All right,” Ruth assented as she turned away. It was not uncommon for the gas man, the one who read the electric meter, and the one who kept tally of the water meter, to enter the cellar by this rear door unannounced during the summer when the door was kept open. “The water turns off up in front,” added the girl, thinking the men might not know where to find the stop. “But don’t shut it off without letting me know.”
“No’m,” muttered the spokesman, as he followed his companion.
Ruth walked through the kitchen, which now, under the powerful ministrations of Linda, was resuming its wonted neat appearance.
“What was it, Ruthie?” asked Agnes, coming down with Mrs. MacCall.
“Just some men from the water department to see about a leak.”
“They must na shoot it off until I gang away an’ draw some,” protested the housekeeper. “Linda, lass——”
“No, they won’t turn it off without telling us,” Ruth assured her. “Now about the paper—did you settle on a pattern? I want to get the room in shape for Nally.”
“I think this is the prettiest,” suggested Agnes, holding out a sample, one of several the decorator had left.
“Yes, that will do nicely,” agreed Ruth. “And now—Oh, what about eggs?” she asked quickly. “I suppose those poor Robbie brought were all smashed.”