"You will let me go and see her, won't you, mother?" said Ann eagerly. "I promised Malvina that if she died I would try to be a friend to Lottie, didn't I, Violet?"
Violet assented, whilst Mrs. Reed looked thoughtful, and glanced dubiously at her husband.
"I'm afraid Lottie's not at all a nice sort of girl, not a good girl, in fact," Mrs. Reed said, with marked hesitation in her tone; "I don't want to judge her harshly; but, according to Mrs. Medland's telling, Lottie has been behaving very badly indeed. One would have thought that her sister's death would have sobered her, but apparently it has had a contrary effect, for she spends her evenings gadding about the streets and leaves her poor mother grieving at home. I do not see, Ann, that you can possibly befriend a girl whose conduct is so heartless as that!"
"Only let me go and see her," pleaded Ann earnestly; "father, do ask mother to let me go and see her just once! Perhaps if I went early on Saturday afternoon I should find her at home, and I want to see poor Mrs. Medland, too. Violet would go with me, wouldn't you, Vi?"
"Yes," assented Violet, "of course I would." She did not imagine any good would result from visiting Lottie, but she could not withstand the look of appeal in her friend's grey eyes.
"What do you think, Andrew? Shall they go or not?" said Mrs. Reed undecidedly, addressing her husband.
"Let them go," he responded. "I don't care for them to be in the town on a Saturday afternoon as a rule, but this will be an exceptional occasion; they are not like young children, and I am sure they are to be trusted by themselves."
"Oh, yes," agreed Mrs. Reed, "I, too, am sure of that."
When, on the following Saturday afternoon, Ann, accompanied by Violet, knocked at the Medlands' door it was opened by Mrs. Medland, who invited them at once to come in. They followed her into the little kitchen, where Malvina's cherished fern still hung in the window, and sat down with her, scarcely knowing what to say at first. Both girls felt intense sympathy for the poor mother, who was looking very careworn and ill.
"Dr. Elizabeth wrote and told me of your great sorrow, Mrs. Medland," Ann said gently, "I was so grieved to hear of it—so grieved for you and Lottie, you know."