Hattie, told by Mr. W—— that she could have all the time she wished, sent word to Mrs. Emory that she would come, and now, escorted by Frank, Lizzie and their father, she went down to the carriage. Mr. W—— accompanied, for he was to see her safely to her boarding-house, and then ride home in the carriage.
A kind good-night from all of the Legares went with the poor working girl, and it seemed as if they really regarded her visit as a favor, though through the sudden illness of Mrs. Emory it had turned out sadly.
Mr. W—— was silent and thoughtful during the brief time taken by the swift horses to draw the carriage to Miss Scrimp’s door. Without a doubt his mind was upon the letter then in Hattie’s pocket, and what might be her answer.
She was thinking of Mrs. Emory, and what had caused her sudden pallor and terrible agitation, resulting in a swoon at the mere mention of the name of poor little Jessie Albemarle. Could it be that a brighter future was about to dawn for the poor little bound girl?
Ten strokes of the great clock bell on St. Paul’s, echoed all over the city by other clocks, told Hattie Butler that the hour for closing was up, just as the carriage stopped in front of Miss Scrimp’s door.
Hattie did not know that Miss Scrimp had been waiting and watching at that door for almost an hour, peeping through the crack, for it was not quite closed, to see how and with whom she would return. But this was a fact. And when the street lamp close by shone on the grand carriage and noble horses, with their gold-mounted harness, Miss Scrimp saw, with envy rankling in her heart, the tall footman leap down and open the carriage door, and Mr. W——, even him on whom she had bent longing thoughts, hand Hattie Butler out with his gloved hands, as daintily as if she were a princess and he a lord in waiting.
There was a courteous “good-night” passed between Hattie and her escort, then he sprang into the carriage, and it was driven off, while Hattie ran lightly up the old stone steps in front of the house and laid her hand on the bell-pull.
“Oh, you needn’t yank at that bell!” cried Miss Scrimp, throwing the door open. “It’s after hours, but I was up, and a-waitin’ for you!”
“You did not have to wait long, Miss Scrimp. Not half the city clocks are yet done striking ten. I may be thirty seconds late by the City Hall!”
“Long enough, in a chilly night like this. Where have you been?”