Quite suddenly the little girl chanced to see the boy, who stood gazing at her with rapture in his eyes. She walked up to him fearlessly as though he were one of her chief friends. She looked upon him in such a manner of artless simplicity that his cheeks began to burn with gladness.
“I yike oo,” said the little girl in a voice so loud and clear that it could be heard all over the great room. “Would oo yike to kiss me?”
The woman half-turned in her chair and looked at the boy coldly and steadily. As his eyes met hers the blood seemed to turn to ice in his veins.
“Come here immediately,” she said to the little girl in the loud tone she had used down-stairs to the tall man. “What a horrid-looking boy! He has a sore on his face.”
The boy grew petrified with fear and distress. As he reeled against one of the counters, with no more life in him than a stone, one of the women in black came up to him.
“You have no right whatever to be here,” she said roughly. “How dare you come in!”
The boy, numb with terror, could hardly apprehend that he was being addressed.
“Miss Sharp,” said the woman in black, turning to one who was similarly attired, “fetch Mr. Parley. This boy has no right whatever to be here.”
The tall man came up.
“Mr. Parley,” said the woman in black, “this boy has been found in this department. Oughtn’t he to be searched?”