“Yes,” echoed Dr. Hale, “I see. But I wish those youngsters would peddle eggs some place else. They’re a nuisance.”
“Sure are,” agreed Dora, “and I don’t think Barbara ought to have them trap’sin’ around here at all.”
Dr. Hale eyed Dora sharply. It was surprising how much audacity a few months’ overdue wages could incite. But he had no idea of telling this to Dora.
“Yes, sir,” she went on, putting one of the twin eggs in the hand with the singleton, “they’re a thieving gang, them Eytalians.”
“But those children aren’t thieves, Dora,” the doctor found courage to say, “and their folks are poor but deserving, I understand.”
“You understand that from Barbara,” Dora retorted adding “sir” when she realized how impertinent the answer really was. “She’s too good hearted. I’ve told her time and again, and there was a report that them Eytalians put a bomb in the hotel——”
“Tut—tut!” checked up the doctor, smiling in a way, but not in a cheerful way. “That old hotel burned itself down when it swallowed a big spark from the trains it must have been very weary listening to. The old Mansion House wasn’t bombed by any one, Italian nor others. It just got tired standing there useless and deserted. It was once a merry place, Dora. Many a happy time I had at the Mansion House—before I got to studying bugs, you know,” he explained, moving off towards his study.
Dora too moved off, she towards the kitchen.
“Well,” she called as she went, “what I’m saying is that Barbara is too fond of trashy folks. And now that she’s going out in society she ought to know better!”
If Barbara could only have heard that.