“Hello, Evelyn!” answered Judith. “What is the news you said you’d have for me?”
Mrs. Fremby took off her hat and coat, and sat down.
“My dear,” she said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you to-night. Later on—”
Judith’s beautiful eyes filled with tears of disappointment.
“Oh, Evelyn!” she said. “I did hope there’d be something—something about little Doris, or at least an order for an article. I only have two dollars, Evelyn!”
“I’ll lend you a little money,” said Mrs. Fremby.
She spoke absent-mindedly, for she was calculating. The cost of that taxi had been terrific—and all for nothing! She was tired and downcast and miserable; but it was not her way to allow others to know such things. She reflected that after Judith was gone she could be as miserable as much and as long as she liked, but in the meantime—courage!
It was never a difficult matter to divert Judith’s mind, and within a few minutes Mrs. Fremby had got her to talking about the spring costume she wished she could buy. It was scarcely necessary to listen. Mrs. Fremby was able to indulge in her own far from cheery thoughts.
There was a knock at the door. Mrs. Fremby rose and opened it promptly. It was the landlady. Let it be! There were no surreptitious cooking or heating processes going forward just now.
“There’s a gentleman wants to see you, Mrs. Fremby,” said the landlady, with perfect affability. “He’s waiting down in the hall.”