“She is asking for you,” reported Mrs. Chester, coming from the room of the girl that evening after supper. “She wants you, Cora.”
“Are you sure she said me, Aunt Susan?”
“Yes, she described you. She seems to be worried about something.”
“I will see her.”
Cora went into the room softly. The girl–Nancy Ford–to give her the name on her valise, which had not been opened, was propped up amid the pillows. She had some color in her cheeks now, and there was eager excitement in her eyes.
“How are you–Nancy Ford?” greeted Cora, pleasantly.
“I am not Nancy Ford–how–how–why do you call me that name?”
“It is on your valise.”
The girl started.
“My valise! Oh, yes! Was that saved? Oh, dear, I am so miserable! Yes, I am Nancy Ford. I don’t know why I said I was not. But I have been in such trouble–I haven’t a friend in the world, and–and—”