“I didn’t know,” he said. “The joke is Mrs. Austin’s. All the same, I meant to look you up.”
Alison said nothing. She could talk to Kit again, and she wondered. On the whole, she thought Mrs. Austin experimented.
Mrs. Austin beckoned Kit and he was presented to Miss Florence Grey. Miss Grey declared politely she was pleased to meet him, but he felt her searching glance was hostile. Moreover, he was puzzled. Alison had talked about joining an English friend, but he thought Miss Grey altogether North American. Her accent, her clothes, and her rather aggressive look certainly were not English.
“You were some time at the bridge?” she said, as if Kit’s being there was an offense.
“That is so,” he agreed. “When they allowed me to stop I was lucky.”
“Perhaps your job’s important,” Miss Grey remarked. “Bob Austin comes over week-ends, but then he’s a boss.”
“I dare say that explains it. You see, the boys eat on Sundays, and when you help the cook you can’t very well get off.”
“Don’t I know?” said Miss Grey in a scornful voice. “For some time I was at a prairie farm, and loafing men eat double. But did you help the cook?”
“Sure,” said Kit. “I cut potatoes, fried pork, and cleaned the plates.”
Miss Grey coolly studied him. Kit’s clothes were good; he was rather a handsome fellow and one got a hint of cultivation.