“Miss Bell, then.”
The girl stepped from the stool, and went to the foot of the stairs.
“Shawp!” she cried. She returned at once to the counter with a manner slightly less defensive. “She sits upstairs and reads to the old gel in the middle of the day, and I’m in charge down ’ere. When she comes down I go up, see? It don’t do to leave the place without someone.”
There was a rustle on the lower stairs.
“Bobbie!” A delighted exclamation.
“’Ullo, Trix,” he said nervously. “How’s the world using you?”
“’Aven’t you grown?”
“You’ve been at that game, too. I s’pose I was about the last person that was in your mind.”
“Yes,” said Trixie Bell, “the very last. Me and mother were just then talking about you upstairs. Isn’t your face brown, too?”
“Yours isn’t brown,” said Robert, with a clumsy attempt at compliment, “but it’s got every other good quality.”