“But you must be a splendid hand with a paddle,” said Wyn. “It’s a long way to the lake.”
“Oh! I don’t mind it,” said Polly. “Or, I wouldn’t mind it if it had done me the least good to come down here,” and she sighed.
“You are disappointed?” queried Wyn.
“Dreadfully! I did not find mother’s old friends. I had not heard from them for two or three years, and found that they were away–nobody knows where. I did not know but I might get work here in town for a few weeks, and live with these old friends, and so earn some money. I am so shabby! And father isn’t fit to be seen.
“And then–then there was a man in town who used to befriend mother. I know when I was quite a little girl, the year after we had gone to the woods to live, father was ill for a long time and mother had to have things. She went to this storekeeper in Denton and he let her have things on account and we paid him afterward. Oh, we paid him–every cent!” declared Polly, again wiping her eyes.
“And I hoped he would–for mother’s sake–help us again. I went to him. I–I reminded him of how father once worked for him, and that he knew mother. But he was angry about something–he would not listen–he would neither give me work nor let me have goods charged. I–I–well, it just broke me down, Wyn Mallory, and I came here to cry it out.”
“It’s a shame!” exclaimed Wyn. “I am just as sorry for you as I can be. And I believe that your father is perfectly honest and that he never in his life intended to defraud anybody.”
It was that blessed tact that made Wynifred Mallory say that. It was the sure way to Polly Jarley’s heart; and Wyn’s words and way opened the door wide and Polly took her in.
“You–you blessed creature!” cried the boatman’s daughter. “I know you must have been ’specially sent to comfort me. I was so miserable.”
“Of course I was sent,” declared Wyn. She did not propose to tell her new acquaintance that she had observed her in Erad’s store and had looked for her all over Market Street.