“A pound, mum—” began Mrs. Martin, in a tone of decorous expostulation.
“Oh, give her three, then,” said Kate, impatiently.
Just as the grateful recipient of woman's generosity to her sex was retiring with her booty, Miss Clibborn returned from her round of duty. She was the business partner, with the shrewd head, the judgment comparatively unbiassed, the true soul of the missionary. I give her full credit for all these virtues in spite of her antipathy to myself.
She overheard the last words of the effusive Mrs. Martin, demanded an explanation from us, and frowned when she got it.
“You had much better have investigated the case, Kate,” she observed, in a tone of rebuke.
“So I did,” replied Kate, with charming insolence. “I asked her whether she went to church and why she wore feathers in her hat, and if she had pawned her watch—all the usual idiotic questions.”
“Kate,” said her friend severely, “this spirit is fatal to our success.”