"You're going away?"
The girl nodded. "Just as soon as I can—this afternoon."
"Oh! I'm sorry to hear that. I take a great interest in you. I—I like you, Hester."
The genuine friendliness of her tone went straight to the heart of this poor wanderer. The Storm girl fixed her dark eyes yearningly on Betty.
"I'm in trouble, lady, and—say, on the level, do you—like me?"
"Indeed I do. I liked you the first time I saw you."
"Why?"
"Why?" repeated Betty, disconcerted by the girl's strange earnestness. "Oh, I liked you because you are—different and—you're pretty and—I thought it was a shame when they accused you of stealing that purse."
There was a moment's silence while Hester braced herself for the great ordeal.
"There's one thing about that purse that you don't know," she began in a low tone. But at that moment the door opened and Horatio entered, carrying a card on a tray. He wore a long, blue apron.