And Miss March gazed anxiously into the boy's face.
Al shook his head.
"Never!"
"Aunt Ann, as I used to call her," went on the actress, "was always more or less under the influence of liquor. Gin was her favorite drink. She would work until she had money enough for a debauch, and then—but I cannot bear to recall my unhappy childhood."
Miss March paused and turned away her face; her trembling voice showed the emotion she felt.
"I can imagine it all," said Al, sympathetically. "Go on, please, and spare yourself unnecessary pain."
"How kind you are!" the young girl said, gratefully. "I will, then, omit many details which I am sure would be as painful for you to hear as for me to relate. When under the influence of alcohol Aunt Ann was sometimes very cruel to me. She would beat and otherwise ill-treat me; and to-day I bear scars inflicted by her. But I bore all as patiently as I could, and for what reason, do you suppose?"
"I should think you would have left her," said Al, as the actress paused.
"I should have done so but for one thing."
"And that was?"