"I've just come in on the train," she faltered. "I thought you might be able to tell me where to go. I haven't very much money. I was sick on the way, and spent more than I expected. I—I"—she hesitated, and glanced at Enoch with a little expectant gasp.
"Is thee alone?" inquired the old man.
"Yes. That is—only Baby. My husband has just—just"—her voice fluttered and died away helplessly.
"Oh, thee's a widow," said Enoch gently.
"Yes." The poor young thing looked up with a smile of wistful gratitude. "I'm not very strong. I heard this was a healthy place. They thought it would be good for us—Baby and me. I'm Mrs. Josie Hart. Baby's name is Gerald."
"Would thee be afraid to stay in a house alone?" inquired Enoch thoughtfully.
The stranger gave him a look of gentle surprise.
"Why, no, of course not—not with Baby; he's so much company."
There was a note of profound compassion for his masculine ignorance in her young voice.
The old man's mouth quivered into a smile. He went to the back of the room, and took a key from a nail.