The lady looked pityingly at the beautiful young face—a look that made Bernardine a little nervous, though there was nothing but gentleness and kindness in it.
"We will talk about that in the morning," she said. "I will show you to a room. The house is quite full just now, and I shall have to put you in a room with another young girl. Pardon the question, but have you had your supper?"
"No," replied Bernardine, frankly, "and I am hungry and fatigued."
"I will send you up a bowl of bread and milk, and a cup of nice hot tea," said the lady.
"How good you are to me, a perfect stranger!" murmured Bernardine. "I will be glad to pay you for the tea and——"
The lady held up her white hand with a slow gesture.
"We do not take pay for any services we render here, my dear," she said. "This is a young girls' temporary shelter, kept up by a few of the very wealthy women in this great city."
Bernardine was very much surprised to hear this; but before she could reply, the lady threw open a door to the right, and Bernardine was ushered into a plain but scrupulously neat apartment in which sat a young girl of apparently her own age.
"Sleep here in peace, comfort and security," said the lady. "I will have a talk with you on the morrow," and she closed the door softly, leaving Bernardine alone with the young girl at the window, who had faced about and was regarding her eagerly.
"I am awfully glad you are come," she broke in quickly; "it was terribly slow occupying this room all alone, as I told the matron awhile ago. It seems she took pity on me and sent you here. But why don't you sit down, girl? You look at me as though you were not particularly struck with my face, and took a dislike to me at first sight, as most people do."