‘There, there, don’t be afraid, Gertie,’ she said, wiping away the little one’s tears and patting Lion’s head gently. ‘Lion and I will take care of you, won’t we, Lion?’ For the moment, in her sympathy with the child, she had forgotten herself; but it was only for a moment.
Looking round nervously at the half-open sitting-room door, she whispered to the child, ‘Have you heard anything about him?
‘Yes, miss, I have.’
Between her sobs, and in a low voice, Gertie told her little story, never stopping till she had explained how her grandfather had threatened her life, and how she would never dare to go back again.
The child felt, even as she spoke, that she was playing the traitor—that she was revealing a secret which might bring harm to him who had brought her up and fed her, and who was the only relative she had in the world.
She was shrewd enough to see all this, and when her tale was done she looked up beseechingly in the face of her protectress.
‘I’ve done this for your sake, miss,’ she said; ‘but you won’t let any harm come to grandfather through what I’ve told you, will you?’
‘No, Gertie, I won’t; I promise you. And now you must come in and speak to my father and mother, and we must see what ean be done with you. Come along; don’t be frightened.’
Ruth took her by the hand.
‘Please may Lion come too?’ asked Gertie, laying her hand on the dog’s head, as though loth to leave him for a minute.