It was the step of a fashionable store, and she was directly in the way of those entering.
“Come, be off,” said a clerk, rudely; “we can’t have any vagabonds here.”
Margaret’s look of weakness and helpless misery, as she tried to rise, attracted the attention of a young girl who was passing. It was Helen Ford, just returning from rehearsal at the theatre.
“Are you sick?” she asked, in a tone of sympathy.
“I am afraid I am,” said Margaret, faintly.
“Where is your home? Let me lead you to it.”
“My home!” repeated Margaret. “I have none.”
“No home!” said Helen, in a tone of compassion. “Then where do you expect to sleep to-night?”
“Heaven only knows.”
“If you will come with me, I will take care of you to-night,” said Helen. “You are too sick to be out.”