"Excuse me, Mr. Pyecroft," she called to the clergyman. "So you and your friend want board and room," the landlady repeated in a drawling tone, yet studying them sharply with heavy-penciled eyes. "I run a select house, so I've got to be careful about whom I admit. Consequently you will not object to answering a few questions. You and your friend are working-women?"
"Yes."
The heavy eyes had concluded their inventory. "Perhaps both housekeepers?"
"Ye—yes."
Matilda had a double impulse to explain, first to clear Mrs. De Peyster of this unmerited indignity, and second to prevent their being once more turned away as servants. But something kept her still. And perhaps it was just as well. Mrs. Gilbert, considering the two, did have a moment's thought about refusing them; she, too, liked to maintain the social tone of her establishment, and certainly servants as guests did not help; but then the arid season for boarding-houses was at hand, and she was not one to sacrifice real money to mere principle.
"How long do you want to stay?"
"We don't know yet. Per—perhaps several months."
This was agreeable news to Mrs. Gilbert. But it was not boarding-house policy to show it.
"When would you want to come in?"
"Now."