"How could you be so mean as to tell him?" Faith asked, breathlessly. "You saw how distressed I was; why could you not respect my feelings?"
"Oh, I guess you didn't feel so bad as you try to make out," said Miss Jones, snappishly. "Girls that make friends with men who keep nigger servants ain't always as green as they look, you know! Sometimes they are worse than those who ain't so smooth or so clever!"
"You are as insulting as he was," said Faith, very gravely. "I am disappointed in you, Miss Jones. I though you were more friendly."
"Well, who cares what you thought?" was the heartless answer. "I'm not to blame if you took me for a fool! Why, even Mag Brady could see through your sly actions!"
Faith looked at her in astonishment, her veins throbbing with indignation.
"She understood your little game that day of the fire, when you and Jim Denton were talking together! He's rich, Jim Denton is, and he's mighty susceptible! You ain't such an innocent but what you found that out, and now he is meeting you on street corners and sending you candy!"
Faith had heard all she could bear, so she turned and walked slowly away. She was so confused that for an hour or more she could hardly make out her checks properly.
The new packer was a girl about two years her junior, and as Faith handed up her goods she could not help thinking of Miss Jennings.
Poor Mary, with all her bitterness, had been a true, loyal friend. She would have scorned to do a treacherous or dishonest action herself, yet she absolutely refused to condemn such conduct in others.
Faith remembered her plea for the thief, Lou Willis, and that led her finally on a new train of thought, so that she was able to almost forget her late conversation.