"Why! You've been making your bed again!" she exclaimed.
But she exclaimed so nicely, so benevolently, that he could not take offence. And yet--might she not be condescending to him? Withal, he enjoyed her presence in the bedroom. Her youth, her reliability, her prettiness (he thought she was growing prettier and prettier every day--such dark eyes, such dark hair, such a curve of the lips), and her physical power and health! Her mere health seemed miraculous to him. Oh! She was a god-send. ... She had said nothing about Violet. Well, if she had had news she would have told him. He hesitated to mention Violet. He could wait till she began.
"I'll run and make you some food," she said.
"Here! Not so fast! Not so fast!" he stopped her.
He was about to give an order when, for the second time, he noticed that her apron was wet in several places.
"Why is your apron all wet?" he demanded sharply.
"Is it?" she faltered, looking down at it. "So it is! I've been doing things." (She appeared to have dropped the "sir" completely.)
The fact was that she had been sponging Joe.
Mr. Earlforward became suspicious. He suspected that she was wasting warm water.
"Why are you always running upstairs?" he asked in a curious tone.
(Ha! "Sir." He was recovering his grip on her.)
She blushed red. She had something to hide. Hordes of suspicions thronged through his mind.
"Well, sir, I have to go to the kitchen."
"I don't hear you so often in the _kitchen_," said he drily.
It was true. And all footsteps in the kitchen could be heard overhead in the bedroom. He suspected that she was carrying on conversations from her own bedroom window with new-made friends in the yard of the next house or the next house but one, and giving away the secrets of the house. But he did not utter the suspicion; he kept it to himself for the present. Yes, they were all alike.
"You haven't inquired, Elsie, but I'm much better," he said.
"Oh! I can _see_ you are, sir!" she responded brightly.
But whether she really thought so, or whether she was just humouring him, he could not tell.
"Not to-day you aren't, sir," she burst out.
"No. To-morrow morning. And I think I shall put on one of my new suits and a new shirt. I think it's about time. I don't want to get shabby. Just show them to me."