"'Cause she's the moral image of a lady I onct knowed."
"Where?"
"In Boston city. Yo know, miss, I was onct a housemaid thar in a boarding-house on Beacon Hill. Law me, them houses roun' about was a sight to see at meal-times. People comin' out of 'em like rats out of holes. Every room plum full."
"Who was the lady?"
"German born, American married. Her husband warn't no good,—he favoured Cap'en White somewhat."
Chelda's face did not alter, but her questions did. They had been prompted by a subtle wish to acquaint herself with every detail of life in the house of the man she loved. Now she was reminded of the conversation between her aunt and Derrice that she had overheard a few hours before, and she at once became keenly interested, and asked, sharply, "What do you mean by no good?"
"I dunno, miss. I jus' heard his wife goin' for him one day."
"Didn't she say what he had done?"
"I jus' misremember."
Chelda drew a dollar bill from her purse, rolled it up and tucked it between some dishes on the dresser.