Elizabeth began eagerly to comfort.
"Yes—travelling always seems so delightful, doesn't it? I can't bear to pass through a station and see a London train go away without me. But somehow when one is going a journey it's never so nice. Things go wrong, and one gets cross and tired, and it isn't much fun after all."
"Mebbe no'," said Mrs. Veitch drily, "but a body whiles likes the chance o' finding oot things for theirsel's."
"Of course," said Elizabeth, feeling snubbed.
Mrs. Veitch washed the last dish and set it beside the others to drip, then she turned to her visitor.
"It's money ye're efter, I suppose?"
Elizabeth held out one of the missionary papers and said in an apologetic voice:
"It's the Zenana Mission. I called to see if you cared to give this year?"
Mrs. Veitch dried her hands on a towel that hung behind the door, then reached for her purse (Elizabeth's heart nipped at the leanness of it) from its home in a cracked jug on the dresser-shelf.
"What for wud I no' give?" she asked, and her tone was almost defiant.