"Mother died a few months after Daddy did."
"You'll do then."
I stepped inside. Miss Tompkins seemed too surprised to protest.
"I'm William Hagle," I said. "I want to help you."
"Mr. Hagle, whatever it is—insurance—"
"That's not it exactly," I told her. "I just want to help you. I only want to do whatever you want me to do."
She stared at me, her eyes moving too quickly over my face. "I've never even seen you before, have I? Why do you want to help me? How?"
"What's so damned hard to understand? I just want to help. I don't have any money, but I can work and give you my pay. You want me to clean up the basement, the yard? Got any painting to be done? Hell, I can even sew. Anything—don't you understand—I'll do anything for you."
The girl was breathing too hard now. "Mr. Hagle, if you're hungry, I can find something—no, I don't think there is anything. But I can give you some money to—"