"I spent thirty-six dollars," said Burlingham.
"I only spent twenty-two," declared Mabel. "And this child here only parted with seven of her dollars. I had no idea she was so thrifty."
"And now—what?" said Burlingham.
"I'm going round to see a friend of mine," replied Mabel. "She's on the stage, too. There's sure to be something doing at the summer places. Maybe I can ring Miss Sackville in. There ought to be a good living in those eyes of hers and those feet and ankles. I'm sure I can put her next to something."
"Then you can give her your address," said Burlingham.
"Why, she's going with me," cried Mabel. "You don't suppose I'd leave the child adrift?"
"No, she's going with me to a boarding house I'll find for her," said Burlingham.
Into Mabel's face flashed the expression of the suspicion such a statement would at once arouse in a mind trained as hers had been. Burlingham's look drove the expression out of her face, and suspicion at least into the background. "She's not going with your friend," said Burlingham, a hint of sternness in his voice. "That's best—isn't it?"
Miss Connemora's eyes dropped. "Yes, I guess it is," replied she. "Well—I turn down this way."
"We'll keep on and go out Chestnut Street," said Burlingham.
"You can write to her—or to me—care of the General Delivery."