“Yes; I took breakfast on the boat. The captain insisted on it.”
“Well, it’s lucky, for the girls did eat so hearty this morning there isn’t much left, and it’s all cold before this time. There comes Biddy—she’s heard your voice.”
“Oh, you born angel!” cried Biddy, running up to Hattie and giving her a real, warm Celtic hug. “I’ve got the new dress all made up—a real warrum one for winter wear, d’ye see. The mistress has hers, but it’s silk, and I’d rather have mine twice over. Shall I get ye’s a real nice cup of coffee? I can make it quick.”
“No, thank you, Biddy. I’ll run up to my room a little while, and then I am going up town on a visit. I shall not go to the bindery until to-morrow.”
“Why, you’re in mournin’! Sakes alive, I didn’t notice that till this minute. I was so glad to see you. Who’s dead, dear?” asked Miss Scrimp.
“My mother!” answered Hattie, choking down a sob as she started up stairs for her room.
“Her mother! Poor thing! I’ll be a mother to her now!” said Miss Scrimp, thinking of that thousand dollar check most likely.
Hattie found everything in her room as she had left it. She had long before had the lock put on herself, and it was one which no other key in the house fitted, or Miss Scrimp might have explored her apartment in her absence.
The young lady remained up stairs but a short time, and when she came out she took an up town street car, and started to see her kind friends, the Legares and Mrs. Emory, as well as dear Little Jessie Albemarle.
When she arrived there, such a welcome met her! Lizzie, Mrs. Emory, and Jessie covered her with kisses. Mr. Legare pressed her hand warmly, and poor Frank stammered and blushed, and hardly knew what he said, though he tried to be very polite, and at the same time very ardent in his expressions of pleasure at seeing her once more.