"It's too bad," said Lottie, pathetically, but with a swift comical glance at the others.
"Yes, it's kinder orful to be so helpless," said the old woman, with a complacent sigh, delighted at having a sympathetic auditor. "I'm dreadfully afeard I won't git no supper. I'm like the withered man at the pool of Bethesdy. Whenever they are ready for another batch 'while I'm a-comin' another steppeth down before me.'"
"Well, you're not very much withered, that's one comfort to be thankful for," said Lottie.
"I'd like to be thankful for my supper, if I could only git a chance," persisted the old woman.
"You shall have a chance. When is the pool troubled? When shall we put you in?"
"There! now is the time," said her new acquaintance, dropping her affected and pious tone, and speaking with sharp eagerness. "See, one batch is comin' up, and 'nother is going down."
"Mr. Hemstead, will you assist me in escorting this old lady to the supper-table?"
Hemstead's face was aglow with approval, and he instantly complied, while the others, understanding Lottie better, were convulsed with laughter.
It was no easy thing for them unitedly to manage the hobbling mountain of flesh. When they came to the narrow stairway, matters were still more serious.
"You shall go first," whispered Lottie to Hemstead, "for if she should fall on me, good-by, Lottie Marsden."