Here there were four doors, and from one came the welcome sound of human voices. Derette rapped timidly on this. It was opened by a girl about the age of Flemild.
“Please,” said Derette, “I was to ask for Cumina.”
“Oh, you must go to the still-room,” answered the girl, and would have shut the door without further parley, had not Derette intercepted her with a request to be shown where the still-room was.
With an impatient gesture, the girl came out, led Derette a little way along the corridor running from the tower, and pointed to a door on the left hand.
Derette’s hopes rose again. She was one of those persons whom delays and difficulties do not weary out or render timid, but rather inspire to fresh and stronger action.
“Well, what do you want?” asked the pleasant-faced young woman who answered Derette’s rap. “Please, is there somebody here called Cumina?”
“I rather think there is,” was the smiling answer. “Is it you?”
“Ay. Come in, and say what you wish.” Derette obeyed, and poured out her story, rather more lucidly than she had done to Stephen. Cumina listened with a smile.
“Well, my dear, I would give you a gown for your friend if I had it,” she said good-humouredly; “but I have just sent the only one I can spare to my mother. I wonder who there is, now—Are you afraid of folks that speak crossly?”
“No,” said Derette. “I only want to shake them.” Cumina laughed. “You’ll do!” she said. “Come, then, I’ll take you to Hagena. She’s not very pleasant-spoken, but if any body can help you, she can. The only doubt is whether she will.”