“My dear, what is it?”
For a moment Trude could not answer. She was staring at the sketch as though she could not take her eyes from it.
“Read that again! These are types—you find these girls any time on the wharves—wild—vagabonds! Oh, Aunt Edith that’s—that’s—Sidney!”
“Why, it can’t be, Trude. You said—”
Trude shook her head. “I can’t help what I said. It’s Sidney. I—know. The likeness is true—there can’t be anyone else who looks like Sidney! But she’s barefooted—and—and so—slovenly—and—her hair! She’s cut her beautiful hair!”
Mrs. White took the sketch forcibly from Trude. She frowned over it. One of the girls certainly did look like Sidney as she remembered the child from their one meeting.
“How do you explain it, Trude?”
Trude sighed heavily. “I can’t explain it. There’s something wrong somewhere. And it’s my fault, Aunt Edith. I—I consented—we all consented to let Sidney go off down there just so that we could go ahead with our own plans. But we thought—we felt certain that these cousins were very nice—I—I mean had a lovely home and were rich so that Sidney might get something out of her visit that she couldn’t get at home. It sounds shameful to say it.”
“I understand, my dear. But what made you think so?”
“The—the letter this Cousin Achsa wrote. It was a very nice letter!”