She reached the spot, and finding the girl still sitting there plunged at once into conversation by saying:
"I think you live in one of our cottages, don't you? What's your name, please?"
But the answer, "Theresa Curran," was given in such a miserable voice that Winnie paused and looked at her with some attention.
The girl did not look up, but remained sitting with her elbows on her knees, and her face supported on her hands, staring in front of her as though Winnie were not there. Her face was tear-stained, her eyelids swollen with crying, and there was a look of despairing wretchedness in her face which made Winnie feel that she could not go on with her message. So after standing beside her for a moment or two in silence she said, "Is there anything the matter?"
The girl did not answer; and Winnie repeated, "What's the matter?"
"I dunno what to do at all at all," replied the child, drearily.
"Why?" said Winnie, "what has happened?"
Then, as though she couldn't keep it to herself any longer, the girl's grief burst forth in a passionate wail, and she sobbed out: "Oh, whatever will I do, whatever will I do? He'll kill me if I go home again."
"What is it?" said Winnie, somewhat awe-stricken. "Who is it will kill you?"
"Oh, it's the rent!" sobbed the child, "and mother so sick and all, and he so savage at givin' it. He'll kill me; I know he will. He said he would."