"Look here, Hobbs," said the doctor, "how does Mrs. Grantham manage to get a living here? How does she keep you and herself? It is perhaps an indiscreet question, but it is important that we should know just how matters stand."
"Don't you trouble about that, doctor," replied Hobbs. "We pay our way and save money. Why! my mistress sold a picture yesterday."
"Really!—and for how much?"
"Well, sir, you are getting a little inquisitive. For twenty-five pounds, if you must know."
"Twenty-five pounds!" said the doctor, winking at Lorimer. "Well, and how much is your rent?"
"Thirty pounds a year. Don't be alarmed about us, we don't spend all the money we make."
"We make! Oh, I see, you work too?"
"I should think I did, sir; I clean the rooms, I do the cooking" ...
"And what about your wages?"
"My wages—the affection and kindness of my dear mistress, and I shall never ask or expect any increase. We are all right, doctor; don't make your mind uneasy about us. If only I could see her grow strong, everything else would be all right."