"I want some one who knows something about it to go around Kentwood with us."
"What for?" he snarled. "I got my orders."
"From whom?" countered Geneviève.
"None of your business, as I can see." He eyed her narrowly. "But my orders is to keep every one nosin' around here without no good raison out of the place—and I don't think you're here to rent, nor your friend, neither. Besides, there ain't nothin' to rent."
Mrs. Brewster-Smith colored. The insult to her ownership of the premises stung her to resentment.
"My good man," she said sharply. "I happen to be the proprietor of North Kent wood."
"Then you'd better beat it." The guardian grinned. "There's a dame been here with one of them fellers from the town office."
"Where are they now?" questioned Genevieve sharply.
"Went up factory way. But if you ain't one of them lady nosies, you'd better beat it, I tell you."
Genevieve looked up the street. "Very well, we'll walk on up. This is North Kentwood, isn't it?"