"Be sure you don't lock the door," called Alice after her. "I sha'n't be up for quite an hour, and you will be sound asleep by that time."
"I won't lock it," replied Kathleen gently.
When Kathleen had gone upstairs, Mrs. Tennant turned and spoke to her daughter.
"You know, Alice," she said, "the child is very lovable and kind-hearted—a little barbarian in some senses of the word, but a fine nature—of that I am certain."
"I am so busy to-night, mother," replied Alice. "Can't we defer talking of the charms of Kathleen's character until after I have done my lessons?"
"Of course, dear," said her mother.
She drew her basket of mending towards her, put stitch after stitch into the shabby garments, and thought all the time of Kathleen with her bright face and beautiful, merry eyes.
Meanwhile that young lady, having arranged a bolster in her bed to look as like a human being as possible, put on her hat and jacket and ran downstairs. There was no one in the hall, and she was absolutely daring enough to go out by that door. Mrs. Tennant raised her head when she heard the door gently shut.
"Can that be the post?" she said; but as no one replied, she forgot the circumstance and went on with her mending.
A few doors down the street Susy Hopkins was waiting for Kathleen.