“I brought your shoes,” said this untidy visitor, swinging herself a step forward nearer to Faith, and holding out a bundle. “Father doesn’t know I’ve come,” she added, with a little smile of satisfaction. “But I wanted to see you.”
“Won’t you sit down?” said Faith politely, pulling forward a big cushioned chair.
Louise Trent sat down as if hardly knowing if she dared trust the chair or not.
“Your aunt didn’t let you come to see me, did she? I knew she wouldn’t,” continued Louise. “What you got?” she questioned, looking at the pretty cap with admiring eyes.
“It’s new. And I never had one before,” answered Faith.
“Well, I’ve never had one, and I never shall have. You wouldn’t let me try that one on, would you?” said Louise, looking at Faith with such a longing expression in her dark eyes that Faith did not hesitate for a moment.
“Of course I will,” she answered quickly, and taking off the cap placed it carefully on Louise’s untidy black hair.
“If your hair was brushed back it would look nice on you,” declared Faith. “You wait, and I’ll get my brush and fix your hair,” and before Louise could reply Faith was running up the stairs. She was back in a moment with brush and comb, and Louise submitted to having her hair put in order, and tied back with one of the new hair ribbons that Aunt Prissy had given Faith. While Faith was thus occupied Louise looked about the sitting-room, and asked questions.
“There,” said Faith. “Now it looks nice on you. But what makes you wear that old shawl?”
Louise’s face clouded, and she raised her crutch as if to strike Faith. “Don’t you make fun of me. I have to wear it. I don’t have nothing like other girls,” she exclaimed, and dropping the crutch, she turned her face against the arm of the chair and began to sob bitterly.