As he shut the door Maggie turned, and her heart being too full to speak, she came forward and dropped on her knees, burying her face in Helen's lap. “You must not notice me,” she said—“don't—don't—oh, don't look at me.”
Helen stroked her cheek and finally she was quiet.
Then she looked into Helen's face. “Do you know—oh, will you mind if I speak to you—or perhaps I shouldn't—but—but—don't you see that he loves you?”
Helen reddened to her ears.
“I am foolish—sick—nervous—I know I am silly an' yet I don't see how he could help it—you are so queenly—beautiful—so different from any that are here. He—he—has forgotten me—”
Helen looked at her quickly.
“Why, I don't understand,” she said.
“I mean,” she stammered, “he used to notice us common girls—me and the others—”
“I don't understand you,” said Helen, half indignantly.
“Oh, don't pay no 'tention to me,” she said. “I, I fear I am sick, you know—sicker than I thought,” and she coughed violently.