“Where you worked, and how you went to work, and if we were your only sisters. He was quite a nice sort of man.”
“A gentleman, I think,” Sadie said with a great air of worldly wisdom. “He said he would call again after dinner to-night.”
“Did he not tell you what he wanted,” Ada asked.
“No,” Marjory said, “and it was only after he had gone that we found out how much we had told him, all about mother, and everything. Do you mind, Ada?”
“No,” Ada replied; “but try in future, Marjory, to remember that you are getting too big a girl to talk to strange gentlemen in that confidential way.”
After dinner that night the Irish servant toiled up to the top of the high house to tell Ada Nicoli that there was a strange gentleman waiting to see her down below.
“And sure and I can’t think why you want to come up to this attic in the evenin’, instead of joining with the company in the parlour. It would save my poor legs toiling up to tell you when your friends arrive.”
“It’s the first time anyone has come to see me, Bridget,” Ada answered, “and I like having the children with me in the evening.”
Ada might more truthfully have remarked that she did not wish her little sisters to enjoy the company of the young business men who frequented the boarding-house parlour in the evening.