"You want to know how I happen to be here?" anticipated Hester.
Betty admitted that she would like to know this and straightway the other began her extemporization, the general lines of which, it must be said, had been planned in advance, for she realized that her benefactress was no fool. It was simply a plausible continuation of her hard luck story as outlined on the train, with a vivid insistence on the shock she had suffered through being unjustly suspected. This was the last straw and it had broken her spirit. No one would believe in her or help her, and she hadn't the courage to struggle any longer. She didn't care what happened to her, she didn't want to live and—just as she was in this wicked spirit, she had thought of Betty, and it had seemed as if she heard a voice telling her to go to this gentle lady who had befriended her and—trusted her and——
At this point, as Hester was working up to an effective climax of sighs and tears, Parker entered and addressed Betty in his most haughty manner.
"Mr. Robert Baxter gave me these 'ere letters. He said I was to give 'em to the new secretary."
"Very well," said Betty, and she took the papers, while the dark girl stared in amazement. The tables were suddenly turned.
"The new secretary?" questioned Hester, when the butler had gone. "He called you the new secretary?" Her eyes were on Betty steadily now, and they were no longer pleading, submissive eyes, but had suddenly become hard and suspicious.
"Why—er—I can explain that," Betty hesitated.
Hester nodded shrewdly. "It'll take a lot of explaining, if you ask me. On the level, are you a lady or—what?"
"I've been doing Mr. Baxter's secretarial work——"
She felt the color flaming in her cheeks under Hester's bold scrutiny. "It's a—a sort of a joke."