A door at her right hand as she entered was slightly ajar, and
voices could be heard from the other side of it. One of these voices
very shortly raised itself in a harsh and angry tone, and Ida could
catch what was said.

"Well, Mr. What's-your-name, I suppose I know my own business rather
better than you can teach me. It's pretty clear you've been doing
your best for some time to set the people against me, and I'm damned
if I'll have it! You go to the place on religious pretences, and
what your real object may be I don't know; but I do know one thing,
and that is, I won't have you hanging about any longer. I'll meet
you there myself, and if it's a third-floor window you get pitched
out of, well, it won't be my fault. Now I don't want any more talk
with you. This is most folks' praying-time; I wonder you're not at
it. It's _my_ time for writing letters, and I'd rather have your
room than your company. I'm a plain-spoken man, you see, a man of
business, and I don't mince matters. To come and dictate to me about
the state of my houses and of my tenants ain't a business-like
proceeding, and you'll excuse me if I don't take it kindly. There's
the door, and good morning to you!"

The door opened, and a young man, looking pale and dismayed, came
out quickly, and at once left the house. Behind him came the last
speaker. At the sight of the waiting child he stood still, and the
expression of his face changed from sour annoyance to annoyed
surprise.

"Eh? Well?" he exclaimed, looking closely at Ida, his eye-brows
contracting.