"It's Saturday, you know, miss. There's always a sort of a half-holiday on Saturday."
"Well, you look as if you needed a little fresh air," replied Nora, gently. "I'm afraid you have had some trouble."
Her kind voice and gentle words seemed too much for poor Lizzie. She bent down her head, as she sat by the bed, holding the invalid's hand, and sobbed quietly.
By degrees, Nora drew from her the cause of her grief. "Jim" had been going on badly, had been off on another "tear," incited thereto by jealousy of Nelly's flightiness, and of her mysterious admirer. He had been "run in" for drinking and disorderly conduct, and Lizzie had had to take most of the money she had been saving up for warm winter clothing, in order to pay his fine.
"Oh, Lizzie, why did you do that?" asked Miss Blanchard.
"Indeed, miss, how could I let Jim go to jail, and have mother fretting to break her heart? I'd rather starve!"
And Nora knew, in her heart, that the girl could not have done otherwise.
But that was not all. The manager had threatened to dismiss "Jim" unless he should behave better, and meantime had put him at lower work for lower wages.
"Perhaps I might ask young Mr. Pomeroy to speak a good word for him," Nora said. "I know him very well."
"Oh, no, miss, don't!" cried Lizzie, nervously; "it wouldn't do no good! The manager does as he thinks best, and they never interfere with him. Why, he cut down nearly all the girls' wages lately, and they knew they durstn't say a word! He'd discharge the first one that did! An' all that makes it so much harder now to get on."