"We don't know anything about her, Sam," she said cautiously. "There is of course no doubt about her being in trouble, and looking as good as an angel, too, but one can never tell. I'd rather she'd have had some luggage. Don't you think if she had come up from the country to stay with her friend, now, she'd have had some luggage?"
"Well, yes, so she would in an ord'nary way--but we don't know all the circumstances. And it was a first-class big house in a fashionable square, and she went up to the door as boldly as if she expected a welcome----"
"Which she didn't get, and they wouldn't have anything to do with her there. That looks bad. For the rest you have only her own tale to go by."
"Mother, are you going to turn her out?" asked Sam, with reproach in his voice.
"No, Sam, I can't do that. But I shall keep my eyes open."
"You'll be good to her, mother, I know."
"Yes, of course." Mrs. Austin smiled, and her son knew that she would keep her word.
He went away then with his cab, and Mrs. Austin closed her house for the night and went upstairs to bed, pausing on the landing by her new lodger's door. Did the girl want anything, she wondered, and after a low knock she opened the door softly.
Doris was kneeling by her bed-side, and with a little nod of satisfaction Mrs. Austin withdrew.
Doris's sleep, when at last she sought her couch, was long, so that when she awoke it was afternoon and she found her landlady standing by her bedside, with a little tray, on which was tea and toast.