“Are your parents living?”
“No—poor thing! She is an orphan. There is a large family of them. She came down with her sister, hoping to get a place. The elder sister is trying to keep the little ones together.”
Christie made a movement as if to silence the speaker. The lady looked at a gentleman who sat at a distant window seeming to read.
“What do you think?” she asked.
He rose, and walked in a leisurely manner down the room, nodding to Mrs McIntyre as he passed. As he returned, he paused, and said something in an undertone to the lady. Christie caught the words.
“If anything was to happen to her, she would be on your hands. She seems quite without friends.”
Christie was on her feet in a moment. Her chair was pushed back with a motion so sudden that the gentleman turned to look at her. She was anything but pale now. Her cheeks were crimson, and there was a light in her eyes that bade fair to be very soon quenched in tears.
“I am very sorry that I—” She could utter no more. Laying her hand on Mrs McIntyre’s arm, she said, huskily, “Come.” Her friend rose.
“Perhaps if you were to try her for a month—” she suggested.
But Christie shook her head.