“Don’t you go to school?” asked Mary Louise. “I mean—when it isn’t vacation time?”
The girl shook her head.
“That must be awful!” exclaimed Jane. “Sometimes I hate school, but I’d certainly hate worse never to go. How old are you?”
“I’m only fifteen,” replied Elsie. “But it seems as if I were fifty. I mean—the time is so long. Yet I’ve really only lived here with Aunt Mattie two years.”
“And didn’t you ever go to school?” questioned Mary Louise. She couldn’t believe that, for the girl spoke beautiful English.
“Oh, yes—before I came here. I was just ready to enter high school when mother died—only a couple of months after my father was killed in an accident. He was Aunt Mattie’s youngest brother. And he didn’t leave any money, so I had to come and live with her.”
“But I can’t see why she doesn’t send you to school,” protested Jane. “It’s a public high school. It wouldn’t cost her anything.”
“Yes, it would, because I haven’t any clothes except these old things of hers. I can’t go anywhere—I’m too ashamed.”
Mary Louise’s eyes gleamed with indignation.
“That’s terrible!” she cried. “We can report her—”