“D—don’t give me away,” gasped the strange girl, suddenly ceasing her struggles.
“Do you belong here?” demanded Ruth.
“Belong here? Naw! I don’t belong nowheres. An’ you better lemme go, Miss.”
“Why—you are a strange girl,” said Ruth, greatly amazed. “You can’t be one of us Briarwoods.”
“That ain’t my name a-tall,” whispered the frightened girl. “My name’s Raby.”
“But what were you doing over there at the fountain?”
“Gettin’ a drink. Was that any harm?” demanded the girl, sharply. “I’d found some dry pieces of bread the cook had put on top of a box there by the back door. I reckoned she didn’t want the bread, and I did.”
“Oh, dear me!” whispered Ruth.
“And dry bread’s dry eatin’,” said the strange girl. “I had ter have a drink o’ water to wash it down. And jest as I got down into that little place where I seed the fountain this afternoon——”
“Oh, my, dear!” gasped Ruth. “Have you been lurking about the school all that time and never came and asked good old Mary Ann for something decent to eat?”