“Here’s No. 6—it must be that second door beyond,” Lena said in a low tone; but low as it was, somebody heard, for the next door—No. 8—flew open instantly, and a woman stepped briskly out and faced the girls.
“Come right in—come right in,” she said with an imperative gesture. “My! But I’m glad to see ye!”
So compelling was her action that, with a laugh, Lena yielded and Eva followed her as a matter of course.
The woman closed the door quickly, and pulled forward three chairs, planting herself in the third.
“My land, but it’s good to see ye sittin’ there,” she began. “What’s yer names? Mine’s Nancy Rextrew.”
Lena gave their names, and the woman repeated them lingeringly, as if the syllables were sweet on her tongue. Then she tipped her head, pursed her lips, and gave a little cackling laugh.
“I s’pose ye was bound fer her room—Mis’ Barlow’s, eh?” she questioned.
“Yes,” Lena admitted, “but——”
“I don’t care nothin’ about it if you was!” Nancy Rextrew broke in hastily, her little black eyes snapping and her wrinkled face all alive with eager excitement. “I don’t care a mite if you was. Mis’ Barlow has somebody a-comin’ to see her nigh about every day, an’ I’ve stood it jest as long as I can. Yesterday when the Chapin girl an’ the Harding girl stayed along of her half the afternoon I made up my mind that the next girl that came through this corridor was a-comin’ in here—be she who she might. I was right sure some girl or other’d come on a pretty Sunday like this, to read the Bible or suthin’ to her, an’ I says to myself, ‘I’ll kidnap the next one—I don’t care if it’s the daughter of the president in the White House.’ An’ I’ve done it, an’ I’m glad!” she added triumphantly, her eyes meeting Lena’s with a flash that drew an answering flash from the girl’s.
“Well, now that you’ve kidnapped us, what next?” Lena demanded with a laugh.