“I’ll run up to this desolate attic, now and then, and look after your wardrobe.”
“You won’t; for I shan’t admit you,” said Belle.
“Yes, I will. I shall take opportunities of coming in when you are absent. You are a friend of Marjorie and Eileen; and, for the sake of their respectability, you
must not go about in absolute rags. Now, come, girls, and leave her in peace.”
Belle approached her attic window. She stood now with her back to the girls and her face to the view; but it is to be doubted if she saw it. Her dress, a dirty serge, trailed along the floor, one wisp of her thin hair had escaped from the little knot at the back of her head, and was lying on her shoulder.
“Poor Belle,” said Eileen, with a sigh.
“I tell you what it is, girls,” said Lettie, as she went downstairs. “Belle is such an oddity that, if something is not done to save her, she will soon lose her senses. I mean to hunt her up. I was wondering last night what my mission in this place could be. I little thought that I was to be inflicted with Belle Acheson.”
“She certainly doesn’t wish for you, Lettie, so you needn’t take her up unless you like,” said Eileen.
“Oh, I must do something,” said Lettie; “that fact has been well borne in upon me—it is to be Belle Acheson or nothing. No trial could well be greater. I hope I shall benefit by it. But come now; I want to order my things.”
“Must you order them to-day?”