“I will be very glad to make some arrangements,” Dorothy heard him say. “Of course, the child is in our charge, and we thought everything was going on satisfactorily. It is a strange thing what important developments some times may evolve from the simple matter of one child’s affection for another. The president of Glenwood school has written me that it was entirely due to the interest of Miss Dale that this child’s plight was actually discovered,” he said aloud, intending that both girls should hear the remark.
“Dorothy has been very good—” Miette felt obliged to say, although she feared to make her own voice heard in the serious matter that the lawyer was evidently discussing.
“For the present then,” said the lawyer, “this is all we can do. I will be glad to call at the Cedars as soon as I can thoroughly investigate the details, and then we will see what better plan may be arranged.”
Mrs. White was ready to leave.
“Just one minute,” said the lawyer. “I neglected to ascertain what was the name of the firm which you say you had been employed by?” he asked Miette.
“Gorden-Granfield’s,” she replied, a deep flush overspreading her face at the mention of the “store,” where she had spent such miserable hours.
“And who worked with you, near you?” he asked further, putting down on his paper a hurried note.
“Marie Bloise,” answered Miette promptly.
“Very well,” he said, putting the paper back on his desk. “I am entirely obliged, Mrs. White,” he continued, “and very glad indeed to have met this little heroine,” he smiled to Dorothy. “Our young girls of to-day very often display a more commendable type of heroism than characterized the Joans of former days,” he declared. “The results of their work are more practical, to say the least.”
Then they entered the elevator, and Miette, still carrying the envelope with the miniature (the lawyer gave the picture to her) stepped impatiently ahead of Dorothy and Mrs. White when they reached the sidewalk.