An impulse brought the orange out of Medora’s pocket.
“Here’s something for you,” she said. “You can share it between you presently.”
They thanked her, and chatted happily enough about their work and play. Medora told them that she had been in London, and interested them with what she saw at the Zoological Gardens.
“My! To think!” said Mercy. “I thought squirrels was always red.”
A few adults passed through the sizing house, among them Mr. Trood. He hesitated, seemed surprised to see her, but said “good morning,” not unpleasantly, and hoped she was all right.
“I dare say you half wish you were back again, Medora?” he asked, and she jumped at the suggestion and told him that she often did.
“Just peeped in for the pleasure of seeing friends,” she said.
He went his way and Medora was about to leave the children and seek Kellock, when an adventure very painful befell her.
For old Amos Toft belonged to the tribe of Mr. Pinhey. He was inflamed with indignation at the spectacle of Medora contaminating youth, and departed presently that he might tell Mrs. Life, in the glazing shop, what was happening. Whereupon, Mercy Life, the elder, leapt from her stool at the crib, and much incensed, hastened to her child’s protection.
Medora greeted her with a smile, but it vanished before the other’s sharp challenge.