Her father declined to go out to the lunch room. The chill of the late ride was still on him, he croaked through his door; he was shivering; he was going right to bed.
"Yes, do, dear. I'll bring you back a sandwich."
"Safe to go out alone?"
"Anything's safe after facing that horrible—— I do believe in witches, now. Listen, dear; I'll bring you a hot-water bag."
She took the bag down to the office. The landlady was winding the clock, while her husband yawned. She glared.
"I wonder if I may have some hot water for my father? He has a chill."
"Stove's out. No hot water in the house."
"Couldn't you heat some?"
"Now look here, miss. You come in here, asking for meals and rooms at midnight, and you want a cut rate on everything, and I do what I can, but enough's enough!"
The woman stalked out. Her husband popped up. "Mustn't mind the old girl, lady. Got a grouch. Well, you can't blame her, in a way; when Bill lit out, he done her out of four-bits! But I'll tell you!" he leered. "You leave me the hot-water biznai, and I'll heat you some water myself!"