She was glad, though, that Mr. Petersen didn’t know _all_ about the boarder, for then her triumph wouldn’t have been quite so complete.... His affectionateness, for instance, and his absent-mindedness. He continually forgot to pay his board. Minnie would be forced to remind him, then he would immediately take out a pocketbook and pay a week’s board, apparently not realising that he owed for two weeks, or perhaps three. He never got up to date. It was a great worry. She had to buy things for him, food and the “root beer” he was so fond of, under the most dreadful difficulties. The tradespeople, knowing that she had a boarder, presupposed cash, and grew more and more grudging. She couldn’t offend and perhaps lose the precious boarder by too strict insistence upon the letter of the contract; he was supposed to pay in advance, of course, but if he didn’t!... There were certain times when he really alarmed her, when there was something about him that she could not endure, something not fully understood but none the less comprehended. For, in spite of her soberness and her sedateness, Minnie was after all only a young girl, and a very ignorant one. She had nothing but her instincts and her cool temperament to protect her. She had, one might say, no sex at all, no trace of passion. She adored compliments and attentions, and very sensibly wanted a husband to work for her, but she recoiled with a quite morbid aversion from the idea of a kiss. Mr. Blair’s little attempts were repulsive to her. He used to propose walks after supper, but after one trial, she never accepted again. It was a horrible experience. She was too innocent to know whether she had been insulted or whether it was all quite harmless, but she could not deny her own distress. She lay awake and wept--a very little--at the idea of marrying Mr. Blair. Of course, she could, and she would, but it wasn’t an agreeable prospect. She believed that he must have a fair enough income, for he did no work and yet had all he wanted. Tobacco and magazines and new neckties were his sole indulgences, with an occasional bag of cheap candy. He was the most contented fellow alive. It was not possible that he suffered from the usual human “money worries.” His slowness in paying his board she attributed to his literariness. IV It was a fine morning, late in April; Minnie had finished her work in the kitchen and was on the point of going up to “do” the bedrooms when Mr. Blair came in with a camera in his hand. “I’m going to try to get a picture of you,” he said. She said she was busy but he waved that aside. “Call your cats,” he said pompously, “I’ve got an idea.” He ordered her to sit on the back steps, with Michael in her arms and the others one on each side.