Just then the door opened again. All were genuinely surprised this
time, for a prim, spick and span, middle-aged woman entered.
"I am Miss Statistix, of the organized charities," she announced,
looking around sharply. "I saw your car standing outside, Miss,
and the children below told me you were up here. I came up to see
whether you were aiding really DESERVING poor."
She laid a marked emphasis on the word, pursing up her lips. There
was no mistaking the apprehension that these fine birds of prey
had of her, either.
Miss Statistix took a step forward, looking in a very superior
manner from Elaine to the packages of food and then at these prize
members of the Brotherhood. She snorted contemptuously.
"Why--wh-what's the matter?" asked Elaine, fidgeting
uncomfortably, as if she were herself guilty, in the icy
atmosphere that now seemed to envelope all things.
"This man is a gunman, that woman is a bad woman, the boy is Billy
the Bread-Snatcher," she answered precisely, drawing out a card on
which to record something, "and you, Miss, are a fool!"
"Ya!" snarled the two precious falsers, "get out o' here!"
There was no combating Miss Statistix. She overwhelmed all
arguments by the very exactness of her personality.
"YOU get out!" she countered.
Kitty and Mike, accompanied by Billy, sneaked out.
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