She managed to tell him.
“Golly! we are all right, then. We can talk over the eats, an’ you can tell me your troubles and I’ll relate the story of my life to you—eh?”
The girl tried to smile at him, for she realized that his chatter was kept up partly for the purpose of covering her disappointment. But Nancy was no baby-girl; by the time the elevator reached the lower floor of the building she had winked back her tears and the ache had gone out of her throat.
“This way, Nancy,” said her conductor, cheerfully rushing her through the revolving door to the sidewalk. “There’s Arrandale’s over yonder. If I’d known I was going to eat at such a swell place to-day I’d have worn my glad rags—good duds, you know.”
“You—you look all right,” returned Nancy, smiling, for the red-headed boy did indeed have a neat appearance. Somebody took pains to make him spruce when he started for the office in the morning. “I guess you’ve got some folks?” she questioned.
“Sure. My mother scrubs out the offices. That’s how I come by my job. My big sister keeps house for us, an’ the kids are in school. Yes! there’s folks enough belonging to me. But my father is dead.”
“I—I don’t know anything about my father or mother—or any of my folks.”
“No! Don’t old Gordon know?”
“He says not.”
“And he’s your guardeen?”