“Eh?” he cried, the mouth reopening. “Eh?... Oh, is that you, Reliance? Well, I’ve been wonderin’ where you was. I was sittin’ here thinkin’ about—oh, about different things, and—er—”
His sister interrupted.
“Get up off that stool,” she said. “Come out here.”
She led the way to the shop. Mr. Clark followed her.
“Been a kind of a stupid afternoon,” he announced. “Not much doin’ in the office there. How’s your new dress gettin’ on, Reliance?”
Reliance ignored the question. She opened the drawer of the table by the sewing machine and took therefrom her worn pocketbook.
“Millard,” she said, crisply, “I want you to listen to me and do what I tell you. I am too tired to bother with you any longer to-night. Get out of this buildin’ and stay out.”
“Stay out? What do you mean by that? What are you puttin’ me outdoors for, like a—like a cat? Aw, Reliance, what are you mad about? I suppose you think I was asleep in yonder. Well, I wasn’t.”
“Ssshh! I don’t care whether you were asleep or not. You are as much use one way as the other. And I’m not mad. I’m just tired, same as I told you, and I can’t be bothered with you. Here! here is some money. Go down to the Seaside House and get your supper there. Then, after that—well, I don’t care what you do after that, so long as you don’t come back here and worry me.”
Millard stared. This was too good to be true—so good and so non-understandable that he did not dare accept it at its face value. There must be something behind it.