‘Did she?’ asked Emmeline, rather vaguely. Truth to tell, she did not feel quite certain what practical philanthropy meant.
‘Yes,’ said Mr. Faulkner. ‘Don’t you remember my speaking at the Meeting the other evening of that little girl whose pocket-money was the very first subscription to the Home, and who spent most of her playtime trying to help the poor little children of the slums? It was very stupid of me, but it never struck me till your aunt seemed so shy of its being spoken of that it might be the same Miss Bolton.’
‘But that child’s name was Kathleen,’ said Emmeline, looking very much puzzled.
‘Yes, I know. It was really that which threw me out, for I didn’t discover till the other day that Miss Bolton’s second name is Kathleen, and that she was always called by it until she grew up.’
A light had broken on Emmeline’s face. ‘Why, to be sure!’ she exclaimed, ‘I remember now mother telling me that Kitty was named after her.’
A short silence followed, during which Mr. Faulkner puffed away at his pipe and dreamed rose-coloured day-dreams which might or might not come true, and Emmeline strove hard to grasp this startling new idea. ‘I wonder when she gave up that sort of thing,’ she remarked presently.
‘What sort of thing?’ asked Mr. Faulkner. He had been growing rather absent just lately.
‘Looking after the poor, I mean, and—and all that.’
‘Why, when she came to look after you instead,’ said Mr. Faulkner, smiling.
‘Then was it that she used to do when she lived in London?’ asked Emmeline, on whom all sorts of wonderful new lights were suddenly dawning.