"It's this-er-way; you've become mighty helpful to me and I've got a batch of letters to get off by the morning's mail. It looks like there is going to be snow, too, and I'd hate to keep you late and then send you toting home after dark. Now if you can stop over and work 'long o' me till—say ten o'clock, we can finish the work and I'll set you down safe and sound at my boarding-house for a good night's rest."
Cynthia gave her usual shudder and sought about for an excuse. She knew Crothers' boarding-house keeper; knew her to be a decent soul who had more than once, lately, brought a hot meal to her at midday when she brought Crothers'. There was snow in the air, too, and a late ride through the woods at night was almost more awful than to stay at the factory.
"They-all will worry," she faltered in her pretty, slow way.
"I sent word by Hope's boys," Crothers reassured her, "they've just gone. I knew I could depend upon you."
Cynthia struggled to control herself, and finally gave her smile and shrugged her shoulders.
The mistress of the boarding-house brought to the factory a piping hot supper for two at seven o'clock. She seemed to know all about Cynthia's proposed stay, and showed no sign of misunderstanding it.
"You better fotch the chile in 'bout nine," she suggested to Crothers as she went out; "she do look clean beat now. Quality don't last out at work like trash do; they certainly do tucker out sooner."
Crothers bade the garrulous woman a pleasant good night, and then set himself busily to the task of mastering a pile of correspondence on his desk. Cynthia went to the little table by the window that served as her writing-desk and asked quietly what she should do. Crothers handed her a list of names and a package of envelopes and told her to address them. The old clock on the wall ticked away comfortably; the warmth and the late hearty meal combined to drive away fear and apprehension of, she knew not what, and Cynthia was soon absorbed in the task set her.
Presently the kerosene lamp on her table flickered and went out; then glancing over at Crothers' back she asked timidly:
"Please, may I sit by your desk, sir? The light's failed."