CHAPTER XXXVI.
A CRISIS.
Connie went downstairs and stood in the doorway. She had gone through a good deal during these last adventurous weeks, and although still it seemed to those who knew her that Connie had quite the prettiest face in all the world, it was slightly haggard now for a girl of fourteen years, and a little of its soft plumpness had left it.
Connie had never looked more absolutely pathetic than she did at this moment, for her heart was full of sorrow for Giles and of anxiety with regard to Sue. She would keep her promise to the little boy—she would find Sue.
As she stood and thought, some of the roughest neighbors passed by, looked at the child, were about to speak, and then went on. She was quite in her shabby, workaday dress; there was nothing to rouse jealousy about her clothes; and the "gel" seemed in trouble. The neighbors guessed the reason. It was all little Giles. Little Giles was soon "goin' aw'y."
"It do seem crool," they said one to the other, "an' that sister o' his nowhere to be found."
Just then, who should enter the house but kind Dr. Deane. He stopped when he saw Connie.
"I am going up to Giles," he said. "How is the little chap?"
"Worse—much worse," said Connie, the tears gathering in her eyes.