“You take my tip,” said Ginger, earnestly, “and never lie about under beds. There's nothing in it.” “That reminds me. You won't be offended if I asked you something?” “No, no. Go ahead.” “It's rather an impertinent question. You may resent it.” “No, no.” “Well, then, what were you doing under my bed?” “Oh, under your bed?” “Yes. Under my bed. This. It's a bed, you know. Mine. My bed. You were under it. Why? Or putting it another way, why were you under my bed?” “I was hiding.” “Playing hide-and-seek? That explains it.” “Mrs. What's-her-name--Beecher--Meecher--was after me.” Sally shook her head disapprovingly. “You mustn't encourage Mrs. Meecher in these childish pastimes. It unsettles her.” Ginger passed an agitated hand over his forehead. “It's like this...” “I hate to keep criticizing your appearance,” said Sally, “and personally I like it; but, when you clutched your brow just then, you put about a pound of dust on it. Your hands are probably grubby.” Ginger inspected them. “They are!” “Why not make a really good job of it and have a wash?” “Do you mind?” “I'd prefer it.” “Thanks awfully. I mean to say it's your basin, you know, and all that. What I mean is, seem to be making myself pretty well at home.” “Oh, no.” “Touching the matter of soap...” “Use mine. We Americans are famous for our hospitality.” “Thanks awfully.” “The towel is on your right.” “Thanks awfully.” “And I've a clothes brush in my bag.” “Thanks awfully.” Splashing followed like a sea-lion taking a dip. “Now, then,” said Sally, “why were you hiding from Mrs. Meecher?” A careworn, almost hunted look came into Ginger's face. “I say, you know, that woman is rather by way of being one of the lads, what! Scares me! Word was brought that she was on the prowl, so it seemed to me a judicious move to take cover till she sort of blew over. If she'd found me, she'd have made me take that dog of hers for a walk.” “Toto?” “Toto. You know,” said Ginger, with a strong sense of injury, “no dog's got a right to be a dog like that. I don't suppose there's anyone keener on dogs than I am, but a thing like a woolly rat.” He shuddered slightly. “Well, one hates to be seen about with it in the public streets.” “Why couldn't you have refused in a firm but gentlemanly manner to take Toto out?” “Ah! There you rather touch the spot. You see, the fact of the matter is, I'm a bit behind with the rent, and that makes it rather hard to take what you might call a firm stand.” “But how can you be behind with the rent? I only left here the Saturday before last and you weren't in the place then. You can't have been here more than a week.” “I've been here just a week. That's the week I'm behind with.” “But why? You were a millionaire when I left you at Roville.” “Well, the fact of the matter is, I went back to the tables that night and lost a goodish bit of what I'd won. And, somehow or another, when I got to America, the stuff seemed to slip away.”