"Hello, hello!" Mrs. Colebrook stood in the kitchen doorway, wiping her soapy hands on her apron. "What's this, Evie? Telling lies about you? Mr. Sault would not tell a lie to save his life. What gentleman? He'd have to be a pretty good gentleman for Mr. Sault to blacken his boots." Evie wilted before her mother's fiery gaze and, turning, slammed from the room. "It is nothing, Mrs. Colebrook," smiled Ambrose. "I made her angry--something I said. It was my fault entirely. Now what about those blankets?" "You're not going to wash any blankets," said Mrs. Colebrook, "and Evie has got to say she is sorry." "I washed blankets before you were born, Mrs. Colebrook, or soon after, at any rate. I promised you I'd come home and help you." He went with her to the little scullery with its copper and wash tub, she protesting. "I didn't think you meant it," she said, "and I can't let you do it. You go into the kitchen and I'll make you a cup of tea." "Blankets," said Ambrose, rolling up his sleeves. Evie burst into her room, red with anger. She hated Sault more than ever. She said so, flinging her hat wildly on the bed. "Oh--was that you who was strafing?" asked Christina. "I gave him a piece of my mind," said Evie with satisfaction. "That was generous, considering the size of it." Christina bent outward and laid down the paper and stylograph she had been using. "I couldn't have done that a few days ago," she said, "and what has poor Ambrose done?" "He had the cheek to tell me I was home very early, as if he was the lord of the house!" "Aren't you home early?" "It is no business of his, the interfering old devil!" Christina eyed her critically. "You came home in a bad temper," she said. "I suppose giving up Ronnie has got on your nerves." "I haven't given him up!" Evie snapped, "only he's busy tonight." Christina chewed a toffee ball reflectively. "That man is certainly industrious," she said. "They will have to bring out new papers to print all he writes. Does he find time to eat?" Evie lifted her nose scornfully. "What did you say to my Ambrose?" "I told you." "You said that you gave him a piece of your mind--that doesn't mean anything to me. Did you call him a murderer?" "Of course I didn't--I hope I'm a lady." "I've often hoped so, and maybe one of these days my hopes will be realized. So you didn't call him a murderer? You lost a great opportunity. Don't be offensive to him again, Evie," she said quietly. Evie did not reply. When Christina spoke in that tone of voice she was frightened of her. "What is Ambrose doing now?" "I don't know--in the kitchen, I suppose, guzzling food. And I'm starving! But I won't sit down at the same table as a black man, I won't!"