“Well, Mrs. Manstey,” said Mrs. Black, liberally, “I could give you a back room, I dare say; one of the new rooms in the ex——” “But I don’t want to move; I can’t move,” said Mrs. Manstey, almost with a scream. “And I came to tell you that if you build that extension I shall have no view from my window—no view! Do you understand?” Mrs. Black thought herself face to face with a lunatic, and she had always heard that lunatics must be humored. “Dear me, dear me,” she remarked, pushing her chair back a little way, “that is too bad, isn’t it? Why, I never thought of that. To be sure, the extension _will_ interfere with your view, Mrs. Manstey.” “You do understand?” Mrs. Manstey gasped. “Of course I do. And I’m real sorry about it, too. But there, don’t you worry, Mrs. Manstey. I guess we can fix that all right.” Mrs. Manstey rose from her seat, and Mrs. Black slipped toward the door. “What do you mean by fixing it? Do you mean that I can induce you to change your mind about the extension? Oh, Mrs. Black, listen to me. I have two thousand dollars in the bank and I could manage, I know I could manage, to give you a thousand if——” Mrs. Manstey paused; the tears were rolling down her cheeks. “There, there, Mrs. Manstey, don’t you worry,” repeated Mrs. Black, soothingly. “I am sure we can settle it. I am sorry that I can’t stay and talk about it any longer, but this is such a busy time of day, with supper to get——” Her hand was on the door-knob, but with sudden vigor Mrs. Manstey seized her wrist. “You are not giving me a definite answer. Do you mean to say that you accept my proposition?” “Why, I’ll think it over, Mrs. Manstey, certainly I will. I wouldn’t annoy you for the world——” “But the work is to begin to-morrow, I am told,” Mrs. Manstey persisted. Mrs. Black hesitated. “It shan’t begin, I promise you that; I’ll send word to the builder this very night.” Mrs. Manstey tightened her hold. “You are not deceiving me, are you?” she said. “No—no,” stammered Mrs. Black. “How can you think such a thing of me, Mrs. Manstey?” Slowly Mrs. Manstey’s clutch relaxed, and she passed through the open door. “One thousand dollars,” she repeated, pausing in the hall; then she let herself out of the house and hobbled down the steps, supporting herself on the cast-iron railing. “My goodness,” exclaimed Mrs. Black, shutting and bolting the hall-door, “I never knew the old woman was crazy! And she looks so quiet and ladylike, too.”