“Sunday evening, six o’clock,” replied the raw-boned lady.
Johnny looked at the raw-boned lady, imagined himself telling the raw-boned lady the simple, unvarnished truth, and the raw-boned lady’s utter disbelief of every word of it. An inspiration came to his aid.
“I am Mr. Bulstrode’s sister,” said Johnny meekly; “he’s expecting me.”
“Thought you said you lived here?” reminded him the raw-boned lady.
“I meant that he lived here,” replied poor Johnny still more meekly. “He has the second floor, you know.”
“I know,” replied the raw-boned lady. “Not in just at present.”
“Not in?”
“Went out at three o’clock.”
“I’ll go up to his room and wait for him,” said Johnny.
“No, you won’t,” said the raw-boned lady.