"I believe I have requested you not to refer to this again." Mrs. De Peyster's tone was stiff.
Matilda's face showed stubborn bitterness. But the habit of obedience was too old and strong for her to speak further.
There was another silence. Both sat in desperate thought. Suddenly Mrs. De Peyster looked up. "Matilda, I think I have it."
"What is it, ma'am?"—with faintly reviving hope.
"You have the keys to my house. You slip back there to-night, find my purse, or bring something that you might sell."
Matilda slumped down, aghast.
"It's perfectly simple," Mrs. De Peyster reassured her. "We should have thought of it at first."
"But, ma'am!" quaveringly protested Matilda. "Suppose a policeman should see me! They watch those closed houses. And suppose—suppose he should shoot!"
"Nonsense, Matilda! No one will see you if you are careful."