She ain't one of the common sort, and goodness
only knows what Rachel sent her here for. She's poor and sick, but
she ain't bad. I can tell that by her face, and she's the sort I
like to help. It's a mercy I ain't eat my supper, so she can have
that bit of meat and the pie."
Putting a tray on the little table, the good soul set forth all she
had to give, and offered it with such hospitable warmth that
Christie ate and drank with unaccustomed appetite, finishing off
deliciously with a kiss from baby before she was borne away by her
mother to the back bedroom, where peace soon reigned.
"Now let me tell you who I am, and how I came to you in such an
unceremonious way," began Christie, when her hostess returned and
found her warmed, refreshed, and composed by a woman's three best
comforters,--kind words, a baby, and a cup of tea.
"'Pears to me, dear, I wouldn't rile myself up by telling any
werryments to-night, but git right warm inter bed, and have a good
long sleep," said Mrs. Wilkins, without a ray of curiosity in her
wholesome red face.
"But you don't know any thing about me, and I may be the worst woman
in the world," cried Christie, anxious to prove herself worthy of
such confidence.
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