“You would have had more room in your own house,” said Mr. Mortimer, smiling.
But Miss Larkin said, “Indeed we wouldn’t have put those children in our pretty guest rooms.”
“I don’t know,” said Kitty; “I think we would have had to do so. For I’m sure it never would have occurred to us to take them to the hotel!”
Again King shook with laughter.
“I’d like to see them,” he said; “imagine those scared-to-death youngsters, sitting up in the hotel dining-room!”
“Is there anybody to look after them?” asked Miss Larkin. “A matron, or anybody?”
“Well, of course, it isn’t a juvenile asylum,” said Mr. Mortimer; “but I persuaded the landlord’s wife to take an interest in the poor little scraps of humanity. They really seemed very lonesome and forlorn.”
“I don’t think they need to,” observed Kitty. “They’re much more comfortable, by this time, than they’ve ever been before in their lives. I don’t believe they ever have enough to eat, except when we take them Christmas dinners or Thanksgiving baskets.”
“Poor things!” exclaimed Miss Larkin, who was exceedingly sympathetic, now that her dinner party was no longer interfered with. “To-morrow, we must see what we can do for them.”
“Do,” said Mrs. Mortimer; “I’m sorry for them, I’m sure. But now let’s talk of more agreeable matters.”