First one foot went to
sleep, then the other. The minutes stretched to an hour. She had hurried
off that morning without her breakfast, leaving everything at sixes and
sevens, and she wanted to get back and clean up before Mrs. Snawdor got
up. She stirred restlessly, and her chair creaked.
The old lady opened one eye and regarded her suspiciously.
"I am Nance Molloy," ventured the applicant, hopefully. "Mrs.
Purdy sent me."
Miss Bobinet gazed at her in stony silence, then slowly closed her eye,
and took up her snore exactly where she had left it off. This took place
three times before she succeeded in getting her other eye open and
becoming aware of Nance's presence.
"Well, well," she asked testily, in a dry cracked voice, "what are you
sitting there staring at me for?"
Nance repeated her formula several times before she remembered that
Miss Bobinet was deaf; then she got up and shouted it close to the old
lady's ear.
"Lida Purdy's a fool," said Miss Bobinet, crossly. "What do I want with
a chit of a girl like you?"
"She thought I could wait on you," screamed Nance, "and read to you and
play penuchle." The only word that got past the grizzled fringe that
bordered Miss Bobinet's shriveled ear was the last one.
"Penuchle?" she repeated. "Can you play penuchle?"
Nance nodded.
"Get the table," ordered the old lady, peremptorily.
Nance tried to explain that she had not come to stay, that she would go
home, and get her things and return in the afternoon, but Miss Bobinet
would brook no delay.
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