Mrs. Gregory hastened to steep some tea—she had hot water all ready—and set it before the ruffian. He ate and drank eagerly, voraciously, and did not leave a crumb behind him. He had certainly spoken the truth when he said he was hungry. Then he arose, and she hoped he would go. But he turned to her with a significant look.
“I want money,” he said.
“I can give you none,” she answered, her heart sinking.
“Oh, yes, you can.”
“Are you a thief?” she demanded, with a flash of spirit.
“You can call me that if you like.”
There was little hope of shaming him, she saw.
“Look here, missis,” he went on roughly, “you've got money in the house, and I must have it.”
“How do you know that I have money in the house?”
“Your husband brought some home last night. It is here now.”