“But why?” cried the startled girl.
“Well,” he replied, “well—mind you, I’ve nothing to say against Mrs. Wigmore. I’ve a very high opinion of her. She’s a very pleasant, respectable woman; but I advise you not to go there.”
“But I must! She’s expecting me; and where else can I go?”
“Go back to your mother in Philadelphia,” said he.
“I can’t, Mr. Murchison. It was my own idea to go out and earn my own living, and I’m certainly not going home before I’ve even tried.”
“There’s a train every hour,” said he. “I’ll go with you, and I’ll explain to your mother.”
“Explain what?” she protested, overwhelmed with astonishment.
“It’ll be better explained to your mother,” he told her. “You’re too young.”
The doors were opened, and a new crowd was pressing through them. Murchison joined the stream of people, leading his reluctant and protesting companion back on board the ferryboat.