“More charity,” she muttered, as though to herself. “Well, I will take it because I must. But I’ll pay it back.” She turned proudly upon the girls and her fine eyes flashed. “No one can say of Polly Haddon that she left her debts unpaid.”
Taken aback by this unexpected declaration, the girls said nothing, but shifted their feet uneasily, wishing fervently that Polly Haddon would turn the fire of her black eyes on something else.
But almost instantly the woman’s mood became softer, and, seeing the girls’ embarrassment, she tried to put them at their ease.
“Thank you so much,” she said. “Won’t you sit down? The basket is heavy and you have come a long way.”
The girls, not knowing what else to do, sat down on the three spindly chairs awkwardly enough, and Laura and Vi sent distress signals Billie-wards. For Billie was always their spokesman.
So Billie, who had been as much abashed as any of them at their rather queer reception, found her tongue with difficulty and asked Mrs. Haddon how Peter was.
“He is dreadfully low,” Mrs. Haddon answered softly. Her head drooped wearily and her hands were crossed listlessly in front of her. “The doctor says it is not even an even chance whether he lives or dies.”
The girls murmured their very real sympathy, and Billie started to ask another question when the door at the other end of the room opened and the two little girls, Mary and Isabel, entered.
At sight of the visitors they looked startled and started to retreat, but their mother called to them.
“Come here,” she said, and the children sidled slowly up to her where they stood, their large eyes fixed shyly on the girls. “Don’t you know these young ladies?” asked the mother, putting an arm about each of the poor little thin things caressingly and drawing them up close to her. “They are the ones who brought you home that day that you were naughty and ran away, and they have been very kind to us since.”