'Have you no idea?' asked Gladys.
'Not the least. I may think what I like, but I dinna ken a thing,' replied the girl candidly.
'What do you think, then? You knew her so intimately. If you would help me, we might do something together,' said Gladys eagerly.
Teen was prevented answering for a moment by a fit of coughing—a dry, hacking cough, which racked her weary frame, and brought a dark, slow colour into her cadaverous cheek.
'Well, I think she's in London,' she replied at length. 'But it's only a guess. She'll turn up some day, nae doot; we maun jist wait till she does.'
'I am very sorry for you. Will you let me help you? I am living in my own home now in Ayrshire. It is lovely there just now—almost as mild as summer. Won't you come down and pay me a little visit? It would do you a great deal of good.'
Teen laid down her heavy seam and stared at Gladys in genuine amazement, then gave a short, strange laugh.
'Ye're takin' a len' o' me, surely,' she said. 'What wad ye dae if I took ye at yer word?'
'I mean what I say. I want to speak to you, anyhow, about a great many things. How soon could you come? Have you any more work than this to do?'
'No; I tak' this hame the nicht,' replied Teen. 'I can come when I like.'