"I don't know, my girl — I think he may be."
"I'll know before long," she rejoined, taking the stairs at a rate that shewed she meant what she said. Like no client at law that ever sought his lawyer's chambers, on any errand. Before Mr. Inchbald had reached the first landing, she was posted before the desired door, and had tapped there with very alert fingers. Winthrop opened the door.
"Clam!" — said he. — "Come in."
"Mr. Winthrop," said Clam, coming in as slowly as she had mounted the stairs fast, and speaking with unusual deliberation, and not in the least out of breath, — "don't you want to help the distressed?"
"What's the matter, Clam?"
"Why Mr. Haye's took, and Miss 'Lizabeth's all alone with him; and she's a little too good to be let die of fright and worry, if she ain't perfect. Few people are."
"All alone!"
"She's keeping house with him all alone this minute."
"What do you mean by all alone?"
"When there ain't but two people in the house and one o' them's deathly sick."