"What're you talking about?" called Vivian into the emptiness. "Did you feel too weak to work?"
"Like in the books," said Kern, and stuck her head out again with a giggle. "Why, I thank you kindly," she went on in a mincing stage voice. "I'm feeling very, very, very well, my Lord Dook, Mr. V.V. On'y I decided I'd spend to-day lazyin' at my writin'-desk, readin' over my billy-doox from peers of the rellum, 'stead of working my hands and legs off in that nasty, nasty, NASTY--"
"Stop that cuckoo-clock nonsense!" called Mr. V.V., starting to walk towards her. "What are you doing here, I say?"
"I'm helping mommer soak colliflower, Mr. V.V. Honest!" "But why didn't you stay at the Works? Come, stop this foolishness, Corinne, and answer me sensibly."
The girl's cheek rested against the door-facing. She stopped her foolishness.
"Mr. V.V., I'm fired."
A bullet would not have stopped Mr. V.V.'s advance more abruptly.
"You're WHAT?"
Kern nodded slowly a number of times. "I wasn't goin' to tell you till I got me another job, and maybe never, on'y you caught me--"
"Come here," said Mr. V.V. in rather a queer voice. "Walk," he added, as she began to take the long hall at a skip.