“Mrs. Starkweather. He married my mother’s sister—my Aunt Eunice.”
“Mrs. Starkweather!” gasped Mrs. Olstrom.
“Of course.”
“Then, where have you been these past three years?” demanded the housekeeper in wonder. “Mrs. Starkweather has been dead all of that time. Mr. Willets Starkweather is a widower.”
“Aunt Eunice dead?” cried Helen.
The news was a distinct shock to the girl. She forgot everything else for the moment. Her face told her story all too well, and the housekeeper could not doubt her longer.
“You’re a relative, then?”
“Her—her niece, Helen Morrell,” sobbed Helen. “Oh! I did not know—I did not know——”
“Never mind. You are entitled to hospitality and protection. Did you just arrive?”