Nancy opened her eyes in surprise.
“Why, Mr. Tarbox,” she said, “I’ve been goin’ to your house for ten years. Have you got any other woman in my place?”
“No, Miss Stokes; but I’ve been thinkin’ that I can’t afford to pay seventy-five cents a week for washin’.”
“Why, you haven’t failed, have you, Mr. Tarbox?”
“No; but I’ve met with losses,” answered Seth vaguely.
“They must be big losses if you can’t afford the little money you’ve paid me.”
“You may call it little, Nancy, but seventy-five cents a week amounts in a year to thirty-nine dollars.”
“It’ll take more‘n one thirty-nine dollars to break you, Mr. Tarbox.”
“You seem to know a good deal about my affairs, Nancy. I’m the best judge of that.”
“Who’s goin’ to do the washin’, then?”