He seemed to get nothing to do, and yet he made bold to inquire how she was getting along.

The regularity with which he did this smacked of some one who was waiting to live upon her labor.

Now that she had a visible means of support, this irritated her.

He seemed to be depending upon her little twelve dollars.
"How are you getting along ?" he would blandly inquire.
"Oh, all right," she would reply.
"Find it easy ?" "It will be all right when I get used to it." His paper would then engross his thoughts.
"I got some lard," he would add, as an afterthought.

"I thought maybe you might want to make some biscuit." The calm suggestion of the man astonished her a little, especially in the light of recent developments.