“A very little way, ma’am,” replied Comethup.
“Then we’ll walk; I don’t want to squeeze into that wretched fly again if I can help it. And I suppose it’s been waiting there all this time.” She got out her purse and deftly opened it, seeming to know every coin it held by the mere touch of her quick fingers, selected two coins, and handed them to Comethup. “There, run out and give him these and come back to me. And, boy,” she recalled him as he was hastening to the door, “just remember that I’m your aunt, and call me so.”
“Yes, aunt,” he replied.
“That’s better.”
Comethup ran out and paid the driver, and ran back again. When his cap was in his hand and she had got him again by the shoulder she stopped, as they were nearing the door, hesitated a moment, and then spoke.
“You’re not afraid of me?”
Comethup laughed, and assured her that he was not.
“That’s well; you’ve no reason to be, as you shall find. Now go on, and be careful how you go; remember you are my eyes for the future.”
And the strange pair set out together.