“If you will answer me a question,” said Billie suddenly, “I will get my father to send you enough of this coffee to last all winter.”
The old woman picked up the coffee pot and drained it to the last drop.
“If I tell,” she said, warmed and stimulated by the hot drink, “it make lot trouble.”
“Trouble for whom?”
“Much trouble for all.”
“All I am to say to Phoebe then is that her father is in good hands and she is not to look for him?”
The herb-gatherer nodded.
“How soon will he be coming back?”
She shook her head and seizing her staff, rose to go.
“Are you a friend of the Lupos?”