Derrick looked at her handsome face gravely, curiously.

“I saw you defend this girl against some of her old companions, a few hours ago, I believe,” he said.

She colored, but did not return his glance.

“I dunnot believe in harryin' women down th' hill,” she said.

Then, suddenly, she raised her eyes.

“Th' little un is a little lass,” she said, “an' I canna bide th' thowt o' what moight fa' on her if her mother's life is na an honest un—I canna bide the thowt on it.”

“I will see my friend to-night,” said Derrick, “and I will speak to him. Where can he find the girl?”

“Wi' me,” she answered. “I'm taken both on 'em whoam wi' me.”

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CHAPTER III - The Reverend Harold Barholm