"Let her hand go, Enid!" said aunt Leo, with some severity. "You have no business to be out here in the road, talking to children whom you know nothing about."
Enid shrank a little, but she did not drop the child's hand.
"But, aunt Leo, she is hungry and——"
"Were you begging of this young lady?" Miss Vane said magisterially, her eyes bent full on the ragged girl's dark face.
But Andrew Westwood's daughter would not speak.
"I'll talk to her," said Hubert, in a low tone. "You take Enid back to the house, aunt Leo, and I'll send the child about her business."
"No, no; you'll miss your train. It is time for you to go. Enid can run back to the house by herself. Go, Enid!"
"Why may I not speak to the little girl too?" said Enid wistfully. It was not often that she was rebellious, but her face worked now as if she were going to cry.
"Never mind why—do as I tell you!" cried Miss Vane, who was growing exasperated by the pain and difficulty of the situation, "I will see what she wants."
Enid hesitated for a moment, then flung herself impetuously upon Hubert.