“Would have been,” he corrected. “You know we decided over a year ago that we would give up hope of finding her. We’ll think of her as dead. That will be a better way of looking at it.”
“I try, but I can’t. Something within me will not let me think of her but living. Who knows, Joe? This might be. We might have been led here.”
“I think it nonsense,” was the reply. “No doubt the child’s parents live here. You saw that she was dressed well, and looked happy. She looked like a child of well-to-do parents.”
“But Joe, you might inquire,” she pleaded. No one could resist the entreaty of her eyes.
“I will, but make up your mind that the thing cannot be true. You know how you feel after a disappointment. I’ll ask, but you must expect nothing. I’ll not have you ‘fagged.’ Remember that you have me yet. You must brace up and be cheerful for my sake.”
“I’ll try, Joe. You’ll ask?”
Miss Hanscom had gone into the class-room adjoining. Mr. Laurens went to her.
“Who was the little girl who failed in her recitation?” he asked.
“Tilly Jones. We always expect Tilly to do that. We never permit her name on the program when visitors are present. We always have the same experience with her. Your coming was unexpected.”
He waved her suggested apologies away.