"If at any time you should not," he went on, flippantly, "just let me know, Miss Richards, and I will see what I can do for you, for I have considerable influence with Aunt Marg."
Mona looked amazed, and wondered what he could mean by speaking in such a way of Mrs. Montague.
He had made a grand mistake in assuming that she should make a confidant of him—an entire stranger—in the event of her being overworked by his aunt.
"Mrs. Montague has been very good," she said, icily, and drawing her slight, graceful figure haughtily erect, "but—if at any time I should find my duties heavier than I could perform faithfully, I should tell her so and seek some other position."
Mr. Hamblin flushed hotly—not with embarrassment, although he had seldom had such a rebuff, but with anger and chagrin that a poor sewing-girl whom he had seen fit to patronize, should dare to give him such a set-back.
But he had no intentions of being beaten at his game, and so curbed his ire for the time.
"Pardon me," he humbly responded, "I did not mean to offend you nor to interfere, 'pon my word I didn't; only you seem so delicate and unfit for such a life; and fashionable ladies have such oceans of work to be done that they sometimes crowd their help—I—"
"Excuse me—I must leave you here; my work is waiting for me," Mona interposed, coldly, and cutting him short as they reached Mrs. Montague's residence.
She ran lightly up the steps and rang the bell before he could offer to admit her with his latch-key as before.
A servant let her in immediately, and she went directly up stairs, without deigning her would-be escort another word or look, while she carried herself with so much hauteur that he knew she resented his presumptuous familiarity.