The child swallowed and choked a little.
“Nellie Magoon, ma’am, if you please, thank you,” she stammered.
“Where do you live?”
“Down on the Prospect Hill road.”
“Who sent you to me?”
“Mis’ Durgin.”
Miss Kendall frowned and paused a moment. As yet there had not been a name that she recognized, nor could she find in the child’s face the slightest resemblance to any one she had ever seen before.
“But I don’t understand,” she protested. “Who is this Mrs. Durgin? What did she tell you to say to me?”
“She said, ‘Tell her Patty is in trouble an’ wants ter see Mag of the Alley,’” murmured the child, as if reciting a lesson.
“‘Patty’? ‘Patty’? Not Patty Murphy!” cried Miss Kendall, starting forward and grasping the child’s arm.