“Did you always live in that western country town?” he asked, just to make talk.
Lilian colored and hesitated. “When I was a baby mother went out to Wisconsin to her brother’s, I don’t remember anything of that. Yes, afterward we lived in Laconia until we came here; but, do you think she can—mend?” and she approached the bed.
Dr. Kendricks made a slow movement in the negative. “She has very little strength. Was she ill before she came here?”
“Long ago she had a fever, but I think now she has been weakly for a year or more. I was so anxious to keep in school. Oh, I ought to have helped more,” and the tears stood in her eyes. “For we were poor.”
She uttered the fact with a kind of prideful dignity. “She did everything for me and I had planned when I began to earn money that we would have a home—”
“Yes, you have been a good daughter,” and all this while she might have been living in a delightful manner in her father’s house, loving and beloved, the comfort of her mother! For she would have been a devoted daughter in that beautiful home. He hardened his heart against the dying woman, and walked quietly out of the room.
“The story must be true,” he admitted to Mrs. Barrington. “But I cannot tell what step to take first. Would you mind if I saw Mr. Ledwith? He has been the Crawford lawyer and was the brother’s executor. I am quite mystified and perhaps not capable of judging.”
“Why, I think that would be an excellent plan. Yes. He can tell better what steps to take. But Lilian will not leave the poor woman. I am not sure she believes the story. She does not count on any change but is glad to stay here with me and fit herself for earning a living. She has a very loyal nature.”
Mrs. Boyd roused and ate her dinner, then Lilian read her to sleep again. She begged not to be sent out to walk and Mrs. Barrington yielded.
At five Mr. Ledwith called, full of interest in the strange story and begged to see Mrs. Boyd, wondering if she would repeat it. Lilian was summoned.