"Then stay where you are."
Fetzer moved about a small adjoining dining-room. Presently she appeared in Ellen's field of vision wearing a white apron.
"Can you walk into the other room?"
With the help of a firm arm Ellen made the journey. Now she saw Fetzer plainly, her neat little figure, her dreadfully scarred cheek, the black patch across her eye, and the quick, queer motions of her little head.
She ate slowly and with appetite. Tears threatened to interfere with the process of swallowing, but she choked down food and tears together. The little room with its white cloth and a few pictures and blooming geraniums was, after Mrs. Lebber's grimy dining-room, like paradise. She had heard from Millie enough stories about the luring of girls into magnificent and evil resorts to have been very uneasy, but she was not uneasy in the least.
After a while she ventured a pleasantry.
"My father used to tell about a man who said there were three things he would never give up, the Democratic party, his hope of salvation, and his good cup of coffee."
"That's me," said Fetzer, swallowing a long draught, "except I'm no Democrat."
When the dishes were disposed of, she sat down by Ellen, an invitation to confidence in her one-sided glance. She believed in special dispensations of Providence, and she was sure that Providence had brought Ellen here.