"'Scuse me, sir, ain't you mistaken?"
He looked at me for full a minute. I stared him straight in the eye. A nasty eye he's got—black and bloodshot and cold and full of suspicion. But it wavered a bit at the end.
"I may be," he said slowly, "but not about the number. Just you turn around and get down to 331."
"All right, sir. Thank you very much. It might have got me in trouble. The ladies are so particular about having the bells answered quick—"
"I guess you'll get in trouble all right," he said and stood watching—from where he stood he could watch me every inch of the way—till I got to 331, at the end of the hall, Mrs. Kingdon's door.
And the goods still on me, Tom, mind that.
My, but Mrs. Kingdon was wrathy when she saw me!
"Why did they send you?" she cried. "Why did you keep me waiting so long? I want a chambermaid. I've rung a dozen times. The whole place is crazy about that old ball to-night, and no one can get decent attention."
"Can't I do what you want, ma'am?" I just yearned to get inside that door.
"No," she snapped. "I don't want a boy to fasten my dress in the back—"