"Yes. An interesting name, is it not?" chattered Merle, quite oblivious to the rapid pantomime that was passing between the two women. "She has been traveling with a Russian princess, but the princess drank—it was very unfortunate and—Hester will tell you about it—won't you, my dear?"
"I'll tell her all about it," answered the dark-eyed girl, and she managed, with the pleading of her eyes, to give the words a double meaning.
This being arranged, Horatio took a hurried departure, announcing that he must have time to compose his mind before the Progressive Mothers' address.
"Well?" questioned Betty, when the two women were alone.
"Don't blame me, Miss Thompson, until you've heard what I have to say," begged Hester.
"He called you Hester Storm."
"I know, but——"
"Your name is Jenny Regan—isn't it?"
"Please let me speak. I couldn't give my real name—after what happened on the train. It's been printed in the papers and—don't you see, nobody here would have trusted me? It's terrible to be suspected of a thing when—when you're innocent."
Betty pondered this. "I suppose that is true," she agreed, and Hester breathed more easily. At least she was to have a chance to tell her story, some story, and her inventive faculties had never failed her yet. It was a pity if she couldn't cook up a tale that would satisfy this rich girl's curiosity without arousing her suspicion.