"I didn't tell you I did."
"No, but I see you do. I should think, anybody that liked the gospel of
John, would want to be like what it says."
"I didn't tell you I didn't."
"No," said Rotha, half laughing. "I am only guessing, and wishing, you see. Mrs. Purcell, will you take some water up to my room?"
The woman's brows darkened. "What for?" she asked.
"To wash with. The water I took up this afternoon was for putting my room in order,—basin and pitcher and washstand, and wiping off dust. I want water, you know, every day for myself."
"The water's down here—just out o' that door."
"But I cannot wash down here."
"I don't know nothin' about that, whether you can or whether you can't. That's where us washes. If you want to do it up stairs, there's nothin' to hinder you."
"Except that somebody must carry up the water."