"Thanks," said the visitor. "I'll have my trunk sent in at once."
Her tone Mrs. Tilney had thought hasty, over-eager. Before the landlady, however, could utter that shibboleth of her calling, "You have references?" the child spoke. Clinging to her mother's skirts, she had been staring at Mrs. Tilney.
"Babbie Wynne's hungry," she said.
With a start and a swift contraction of her mouth the mother leaned down to her.
"Hush! Yes, dear, in just a little while now!"
Mrs. Tilney did not ask to have her pay in advance. A certitude, subconscious but still confident, told her the visitor hadn't it. And to have turned that woman and her child outdoors on a night like this needed more courage than Mrs. Tilney had.
"Can we stay, mother?" asked the child earnestly.
There Mrs. Tilney had grimly interposed.
"You're married, aren't you?" she demanded, with a directness as designed as it was blunt.