As she passed Mrs. Frost's room she heard a querulous voice, calling, "Miss Dobbs!" "Jane! Jane!"
Helen, naughty girl that she was began to laugh. "Now I'll have some fun," she thought.
She kept quiet, and the calling ceased; but the moment she began to make her boots squeak, the old lady cried, "Jane!" "Miss Dobbs! I want yer."
"I have a great mind," said Helen to herself, "to go in and give her a real blowing up. I'm sure she deserves it, and it's somebody's duty; for she does abuse, Mrs. Dobbs shamefully." She started to go into the room just as the old lady began to sob out, "I might as well be dead and laid by the side of Jotham; for nobody cares for me now."
"What are you crying for?" inquired Helen, walking toward the bed.
"Where's Miss Dobbs?"
"Gone to the city."
"And Jane, too?"
"No; Jane has gone down to the store."
"They might have told me they were going," faltered the old woman, beginning to cry again.