Margaret had let the photograph fall face-downwards on the edge of the fender and the crash of its glass cut Mrs. du Preez short. She stared at Margaret in astonishment as the girl put a foot on the picture and broke it.
"Wasn't that clumsy of me?" she asked, smiling.
"Well, of all the cheek," declared Mrs. du Preez, slowly. "I never guessed what you were after. But I don't know what Christian will say."
"He can't mend it, anyhow," replied Margaret. "You did want it gone, did n't you?"
"You bet," said Mrs. du Preez. "But—but that was a dodge. Here, let's make sure of it while we 're at it; those two pieces could be easily stuck together. I 'll stamp some of that smashed glass into it. Still—I should think, after this, you 'd be able to hold your own with Mrs. Jakes."
She kicked the pieces of the now unrepairable photograph into a little heap.
"I 'll leave it like that for Christian to see," she said. "But, look here. Didn't you want to speak to Paul? You 'll be wondering when I 'm goin' to give you a chance. I 'll just tap the drum for him."
Paul's whistle from behind the house answered the first strokes and Mrs. du Preez, with an unusual delicacy, did not return to the parlor with him.
"You 're all right now?" he asked, as he entered.
"Oh, yes. That was nothing," said Margaret.