"Who is it?" came from Gertrude Horton.
"It's Nelson."
"Oh!" And instantly the door was unlocked.
A glance at the girl's face told the boy that she had been crying. More than this he saw she was far from well, and the hand she gave him was as hot as fire.
"Oh, Miss Horton, you're sick!" he exclaimed. "What's the matter?"
"I have a severe headache," she answered. "I think it will pass away soon."
She sank down on a dilapidated lounge, and he took a kitchen chair. He saw that she trembled from head to foot, and that she had been worrying ever since he had left her.
"You mustn't worry too much," he said, as kindly as he could. "Mrs. Kennedy says you can stay here as long as you feel like it."
"But she is poor, Nelson, and I—I haven't any money, excepting what you gave me, and you must take that back—you need it."