Her face was a study. Low down on the floor sat the deceiving chairman, with Mugwump prancing before him.
“Mr. Morehall!” she exclaimed; then she stopped.
The chairman, with a flaming face, unfolded his long limbs, crawled out of his retreat, stumbled over the dog, partly fell, recovered himself, and finally got to his feet. After throwing an indignant glance at the two clerks, who were in a pitiable state of restrained merriment, he concentrated his attention on Berty. She blushed, too, as she divined what had been the case.
“You were trying to hide from me,” she said, after a long pause.
He could not deny it, though he stammered something about it being a warm day, and the lower part of the desk being a cool retreat.
“Now you are telling me a story,” said Berty, sternly, “you, the chairman of the board of water-works—a city official, afraid of me!”
He said nothing, and she went on, wistfully, “Am I, then, so terrible? Do you men all hate the beggar-girl?”
Her three hearers immediately fell into a state of shamefacedness.
“What have I done?” she continued, sadly, “what have I done to be so disliked?”