“But, Eve——”
“You know, mother, we haven’t a bed.”
“My dear!”
“And no spare bedclothes. Mrs. Canterton may as well be told the truth.”
There was a short silence. Mrs. Carfax looked as ruffled as it was possible for her to look, settled her shawl, and glanced inquiringly at Mrs. Canterton. But even to Gertrude Canterton the absence of bedclothes seemed final.
“I am sure, Mrs. Carfax, you would have helped us, if you had been able.”
Eve persisted in being regarded as the responsible authority. She was quite shameless now that she had shown Mrs. Canterton the empty cupboard.
“You see, we have only one small maid, and everything is so adjusted, that we just manage to get along.”
“Exactly so, Miss Carfax. I quite understand. But there is a little thing you could do for us. I always think that living in a neighbourhood makes one responsible for one’s poorer neighbours. I am sure, Mrs. Carfax, that you will give a small subscription to the Coal and Clothing Club.”
“With pleasure.”