“Yeh. What’s matter my living here? I gotta live somewhere. I ain’t doin’ nothing.”
“Naw, I guess you ain’t, Tillie, or everybody’s heard before this,” the other agreed amiably. “But say, was it you called the S’ciety, honest?”
“Yeh. What of it?”
“Why, nothin’. Nothin’ ’t all,” said the official soothingly; a grin slowly worked its way across his features. “Only, it’s kinda funny when you think about it, ain’t it? Don’t it strike you kinda funny?”
“It strikes me you was needed,” said Mrs. Shields, glowering at him. “It strikes me you’n your old S’ciety better get busy.”
“Sure, sure! We’re going to. Only the rev’rend next door, and you sickin’ the authorities onta him——” Some obscurely humorous aspect of the situation overcame him; he propped himself against the doorpost, shaken with chuckles.
“When you’re through——?” said Mrs. Shields with chilly venom.
“Oh, all right! All right, Tillie!” He wiped his eyes, saluted her with burlesque obsequiousness, and went off down the walk; at the street another convulsion overtook him.
Miss Martha Wilcox, meanwhile, in contented ignorance of all these happenings, dreamed on, spending the rent, recounting it and spending it over again, Alnaschar-wise; with apologies to herself, she did actually spend some of it, here and there. It fairly burned a hole in her pocket, and there seemed no harm in a few small indulgences; she had gone without so long! But now Mrs. Seabury descended on her, headlong as usual, this time with a face of portentous gloom.
“Martha, have you heard? Oh, well, I know you haven’t heard! That’s the reason I’m here. It just got around to me, and I didn’t wait a minute. I’ve come right over to tell you; it’s the part of kindness. I mean about that woman you’ve got in your house. You haven’t heard?”