ot the tooth-paste
toobs, an' squoze out the insides, an' painted over every bit o'
mahogany he could find--doors, an' furnitur', an' all. You can take it
from me, that house was a sight after the angel-child got through with
it. The girls an' me--the whole push--was workin' like mad clearin' up
after'm before the madam'd come home, an' the nurse cryin' her eyes out
for the pain, an' scared stiff 'less she'd be sent packin'. Also, 'if
Radcliffe asked questions, we was to answer them truthful,' was another
rule. An' the puzzles he'd put to you! One day, I remember, he got me
cornered with a bunch that was such fierce propositions, Solomon in all
his glory couldn't 'a' give him their truthful answers. Says
he--Radcliffe, not Solomon--says he: 'I want another leg.'

"'You can't have it,' says I.

"'Why?' says he.

"'They ain't pervided,' I says. 'Little boys that's well-reggerlated,
don't have but two legs.'

"'Why don't they?'

"'Because God thought two was enough for'm.'

"'Why did God think tho?'

"'You ask too many questions.'

"'Well, but--juth lithen--I want to know--now lithen--doth puthy-caths
lay eggth?'

"'No!'

"'Why don't puthy-caths lay eggth?'

"'Because hens has a corner on the egg business.'

"'Why have they?'

"'Because they're born lucky, like Mr. Carnegie an' Mr. Rockefella.'

"'Doth Mr. Carnegie an' Mr. Rockefella--'

_"'No!'_

"'Why don't they?'

"'Say, Radcliffe, I ain't had a hard day,' says I. 'But _you_ make me
tired.'

"'Why do I? Now--juth wonth more--now--now lithen wonth more--ith God a
lady?'"

As Claire sat waiting for Mrs. Sherman, stray scraps of recollection,
such as these, flitted through her mind and helped to while the time
away. Then, as she still waited, she grew gradually more composed, less
unfamiliar with her surroundings, and the strange predicament in which
she found herself. She could, at length, look at the door she supposed
led into Mrs. Sherman's room, without such a quick contraction of the
heart as caused her breath to come in labored gasps, could make some
sort of sketchy outline of the part she was foreordained to take in the
coming interview, and not find herself barren of resource, even if Mrs.
Sherman _should_ say so-and-so, instead of so-and-so.

She had waited so long, had had such ample time to get herself well in
hand, that when, at last, a door opened (not Mrs. Sherman's door at all,
but another), and a tall, upright masculine figure a