Quick as a flash she was out of bed and pattering barefoot into Julia Cloud’s room.
“Cloudy! Cloudy! You are crying! What is the matter? Quick! Tell me, please!”
Julia Cloud drew the girl down beside her on the bed, and nestled her lovingly and close.
“It’s nothing, dear. It’s only that I had to hurt a good man. It always makes me sorry to have to hurt any one.”
Leslie nestled closer, smoothed her aunt’s hair, and tried to think what to say; but nothing came. She felt shy about it. Finally she put her lips up, and touched her aunt’s cheek, and whispered, “Don’t cry, Cloudy dear!” and just then she heard Allison’s key in the lock. She sprang up, drew her bath-robe about her, and ran down to whisper to him on the stairs what had happened.
“Well, it’s plain she cares,” whispered Allison sadly, gravely, turning his face away from the light. “I say, Les, we ought to do something. We ought to tell her it’s all right for her to go ahead.”
“I can’t, Allison; I’d break down and cry, I know I would. I tried up there just now, but the words wouldn’t come.”
“Well, then, let’s write her a letter! And we’ll both sign it.”
“All right. You write it,” choked Leslie. “I’ll sign it.”