Billie explained that their cab had missed the one in front, and without any address they were lost.
“We thought we remembered the name of ‘Rivers’,” she continued, “and we got your address from the directory and came here. Now, what shall we do? We have no address, no money, nothing. If I could only let my cousin know to-night we were safe. She will be wild with anxiety.”
“Do you think I believe your story?” cried the obstinate fat woman. “How can I tell you’re speaking the truth? How do I know that you are not a pair of young spies, sent here by the police to pry into my secrets and the secrets of my lodgers,—not that we have any, but poor people are always suspected, while the rich go free. It’s the poor that has the hard time in this wicked world, and the rich that flourishes, and it’s the well-dressed ones with the innocent faces that’s the most dangerous of all, and the most noticing,—not that there’s anything to notice about my lodging house nor any secrets to hide. Everything is open and above board in this house, but I’m poor, and my lodgers is poor, and the police never lets the poor alone.”
The fat woman paused breathless after this peroration and Nancy burst out indignantly:
“We are not spies. We are just two American girls lost in London.”
“You won’t regret being kind to us,” put in Billie hotly. “When we get back to our friends, we shall be glad to pay you for your trouble.”
The woman’s pig eyes twinkled. She looked the two girls up and down, took in their neat traveling ulsters, their pretty hats. Even their trim boots came in for a share of notice, and their gloves and small handbags, minus a penny.
“Umph! Umph!” she exclaimed in a low voice. “So!”
In spite of themselves the girls could not help feeling terribly frightened. It was a scene of which they were reminded much later when they saw Hansel and Gretel and the old witch. Nancy’s knees began to tremble violently.
But suddenly the temperature of Miss Felicia Rivers’ manners took an unexpected rise.