“You are so good, Mr. W——!”
Hattie’s heart was too full to say more. She washed her face in the office basin, and then went out to her table with a lighter heart, bending to her work cheerfully, to do all she could before the carriage came from Mr. Legare’s to take her to see Jessie Albemarle and her mother.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE NEW HELP.
Hattie was bending over an old edition of Don Quixote, in Spanish, which had been brought up for binding—almost worn out, the cover gone, and the leaves misplaced, when two hands, soft and small, were placed over her eyes, and a voice, disguised, cried out:
“Who am I?”
“Lizzie—I knew you by your rings,” said Hattie, laughing.
“Oh, I stole up so still I thought you’d think it was some bindery girl,” said Lizzie, bending over and kissing her friend.
“No bindery girl would presume to take liberties with me, dear Lizzie. I never mingle with them, though I always treat them with courtesy when chance throws them in my way.”
“I might have known it, darling Hattie. You are not like them, or any one else that I know. I do believe you are a fine lady, just masquerading at work for a secret cause of your own.”
“Time will tell, Lizzie.”