Hitt folded the telegram and returned it to his pocket. “Are you going to Avon to-morrow?” he abruptly asked of the girl.
“Yes, why not?”
“We can’t afford it now!” cried Haynerd.
Hitt reflected a moment. Then he rose. “And we sit here lamenting!” he exclaimed. “And when we have in our midst this girl, who has borne, without one word of complaint or reviling, the world’s most poignant sorrows! I––I really regret that I told you of––of this telegram. I seemed for a moment to be overwhelmed. But I am on my feet again now!”
He reached into a pocket and took out some bills, which he handed to Carmen. “That will see you through for a day or so down there. If you need more, wire me. I’ll get it from some source! Come,” he added, beckoning to Haynerd, “the Express will be issued to-morrow as usual, and we must get to bed. I’ve really had quite a strenuous day!” He turned, then paused and looked at Carmen.
The girl caught the meaning in his glance, and went directly to the piano. Hitt followed and bent over her.
“Don’t,” he said, “if you do not feel like it. This day has been a hard one for you, I know. And––”
“But I do feel like it,” she answered, smiling up at him. “I want to sing for you. And,” her voice dropped low, “I want to sing to––Him.”
Hitt gulped down something in his throat. “The bravest 207 little girl in the whole wide world!” he muttered through his set teeth.