She saw their faces, unconvinced, not even much interested, and her enthusiasm waned. She would have to prove her good intentions to them. II Supper was over, and the dishes washed and put away. It was rather later than usual, on account of Frankie’s talkativeness, and the old lady announced that she was going “right straight to bed.” To her great surprise, Minnie stopped her. “Please, Grandma,” she said, “I want to talk to you for a minute. Frankie too. Please come into the parlour.” They followed her and waited while she lighted the blue china lamp on the centre table; then, at her request, they sat down. The occasion, as she intended it should, had taken on a solemn and important air; she faced them, flushed, serious, dogged. “Grandma,” she began, “I’ve been thinking a great deal.... I don’t think we ought to go on like this.... Frankie and I aren’t children now, you know.... I think--we ought to know how things stand.” The old lady looked at her but said nothing; she was waiting for a more definite challenge. She got it at once. “I mean,” said Minnie, stoutly, “what have we got to live on?” “What’s this!” cried the old lady tartly. “I _know_ we’re in debt. People are getting--horrid. They don’t want your--our trade. Really, Grandma, you ought to talk things over with Frankie and me.” The old lady was almost unable to speak. “I _never_!” she repeated, again and again, “I _never_! At my time of life ... talking things over with two girls of your age!” “We only want to help,” said Minnie, ingeniously including her sister. “I’ve got on pretty well for seventy-five years without your assistance,” said the old lady. “Well,” observed Minnie, “it’s not what _I_ call getting on. Grandma, we’ve got to have some sort of method. I ... do please let us know--what there is?” “Really, Grandma, I do think it would be better,” Frankie interposed, “Minnie’s a wonderful manager, and I’m sure she could help you ever so much.” “Two children! It’s outrageous! I’ve managed....” “Grandma,” Minnie interrupted solemnly, “Mr. Simms spoke to me.” This was a telling blow; the old lady winced under it. “He was in a very bad temper,” Minnie went on, “and he said to me, in the rudest way, ‘How many _years_ longer is this bill going to run, anyway?’” Frances was distressed by the idea of debts. “Oh, dear!” she cried, “That’s too bad! Do let’s talk it over, Grandma dear, and see what can be done.” But Minnie met with an obstinacy inflexible as her own. Not one detail could they extract from the old lady. She took refuge in bitter reproach. “I’ve worked for you both, day in and day out, for more than two years,” she said, “and whatever money I’ve spent was my own. I’m not accountable to anyone for it.” And she called them undutiful, ungrateful, unkind. “Very well, then,” said Minnie at last, “if you’re going to take it that way ... if you refuse to--to co-operate, Grandma, then I’ll have to accept an offer I had of a position in an office.”