"A little bird told me," and Whyn gave a merry laugh.
"H'm. I guess it was a bird without any feathers, and a little red head."
"Yes, that's who it was. You see, I know most of the people in this place, though I have met only a few. Rod told me that you were sick, and what you look like."
"He did, did he? And I suppose he told you that I had a long nose which was always poking into other people's business."
"Why, no!" and Whyn's face grew suddenly sober. "He never told me anything like that. He only said that you were thin, with a sad face, and that you were very lonely, with no one to love you."
"So he said that, did he?" and a softer expression came into the woman's grey eyes. "But I suppose he told you a whole lot more, though?"
"Only about how he put the key down your neck," and again Whyn smiled.
"Wasn't it a funny way to do a good turn?"
"Not very funny for me, Miss," and the visitor tossed her head. "But tell me, how old are you?"
"Just sixteen," was the reply.
"What's wrong with you, anyway? You don't look very sick."