Doreen Hereford did not find it difficult to make room in her heart for one so helpless and forlorn as Ivy. The merest glance at the wistful face in the hospital ward was sufficient. And Ivy responded to her at once and felt all the comfort of her presence. For Doreen never patronised people, she mothered them; and between these two forms of helpfulness there lies a world of difference.
“Tell me a little more about that poor child,” she said to Ralph as they walked to the station. “You have known her for a long time, have you not.”
“Yes, her grandfather used to give me elocution lessons, she has been on the stage since she was ten and has had rather a hard apprenticeship. Evereld has taken a great fancy to her and she needs friends, poor girl, for she is quite alone in the world. The old Professor died just after our Scotch company broke up.”
“I have been wondering what she will do when she leaves the hospital,” said Mrs. Hereford. “Would Evereld like it if I asked her to stay with us too? Or wouldn’t that work well?”
“I am sure she would like it,” said Ralph. “But will you have room for them all?”
“Oh yes,” she said laughing. “It’s a big house, and besides we Irish people know how to stow away large numbers. I want somehow to see more of little Miss Grant, there is something very winning about her. Talk it over by and bye with Evereld and see what she thinks.”
CHAPTER XXXVI
“The comfort which poor human beings want in such a world as this is not the comfort of ease, but the comfort of strength.”