"Yes; and relatives. Come in," as they had reached the room. "We who remain have a holiday, and just now I do not feel in the humor for any serious thing. Let us compare our work. You are doing very well in music, Madame said. I ask about you;" and there was an expression of real interest in Helen's face that called a pleased flush to that of Miss Craven.
"Yes, but I do love it so;" and there was an intensity in her tone that aroused Helen. "If I were not so ignorant of other things I would devote my whole time to it. And if I could sing! You have such a fine voice."
"It is strong enough to lead a forlorn hope. I'd like it to be a contralto. There is so much depth and feeling and pathos in a contralto voice. Did you hear Miss Morgan sing 'Mary o' the Dee' a few evenings ago? Madame thinks she ought to settle upon music as a profession."
Helen had placed Daisy's rocking chair for her guest. There was a slant ray of sunshine coming in the window, and the room had a habitable air that some people always give. Daisy Bell possessed this in an eminent degree.
"I sometimes wish I were not alone," began Miss Craven. "Only I feel that girls are not attracted to me. I suppose I am too old for girls, and I don't know enough for the young ladies. I almost made up my mind that I wouldn't stay, but Mrs. Aldred has been so kind. And perhaps it would not be better anywhere else. I am nineteen."
The girls had speculated about her age. Miss Mays said she was at least twenty-five.
"And I'm not fifteen yet," laughing brightly.
"I wish I could be fifteen, but I would not like to go back and live the four years over again. My life has been a very dreary one."
"You are so reserved. Don't you really like girls?"
"I like you. I have ever since that day you first talked to me. But you have so many friends, and I do not want to intrude. I do not know how to make friends," hesitatingly, while the tears flooded her eyes.