"I did not understand, at first, my dear," she said, soothingly, "or I
should never have spoken as I did. Some very strange callers come
here. But you are truly welcome. I had a daughter once; she must have
been nearly your age when God took her. Won't you come in?"
While thus speaking she never once glanced toward the man standing in
silence beyond, yet as the two passed through the doorway together he
followed, unasked. Once within the plainly furnished room, and with
her arm about the girl's waist, the lines about her mouth hardened. "I
do not recall extending my invitation to you," she said, coldly.
He remained standing, hat in hand, his face shadowed, his eyes
picturing deep perplexity.
"For the intrusion I offer my apology," he replied, humbly; "but you
see I--I feel responsible for this young woman. She--sort of fell to
my care when none of her own people were left to look after her. I
only came to show her the way, and to say that I stand ready to pay you
well to see to her a bit, and show her how to get hold of the right
things."
"Indeed!" and Mrs. Herndon's voice was not altogether pleasant.
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