Dr. Joe followed her inside, still carrying Frankie. She had lighted an oil lamp on the table, and, as he came in out of the stormy darkness, there was a picture he did not soon forget. It was a very little room, and a very humble one; it was not tastefully furnished; indeed, regarded in detail, it was quite the contrary; but it was a home. It was clean and neat and blessedly tranquil in the lamplight. It was a house with a heart—and Molly Ryan was in it.
Frankie came to life now.
“Where’s Katie?” he demanded.
“She’s left a note,” said Molly. “I don’t understand. She’s never gone out so late before; but perhaps some of the people she works for sent for her.”
The girl looked perplexed and troubled. Dr. Joe was perplexed, too.
“People she works for?” he repeated. “Thought she was the boy’s nurse.”
“She is,” answered Molly; “only while he’s at school she—she does other things.”
“What other things?”
For a moment Molly looked dignified, and as if she would not answer, but she thought better of it. She looked up at Dr. Joe with the straightforward glance that he liked so well.[Pg 266]
“She does day’s work, Dr. Joe—scrubbing and cleaning.”