“You are mean to talk so,” said Maria.
Maud laughed provokingly.
“What made Wollaston go for, then?” she asked.
“Do you suppose anybody would let a girl go alone to New York on a night train?” said Maria, with desperate spirit. “He went because he was polite, so there.”
Wollaston said nothing. He tried to look haughty, but succeeded in looking sheepish.
“Gladys Mann went, too,” said Maria.
“I don't see what makes you go with a girl like that anywhere?” said Maud.
“She's as good as anybody,” said Maria.
“Maybe she is,” returned Maud. Then she glanced at Wollaston, who was looking away, and whispered in Maria's ear: “They talk like fury about her, and her mother, too.”
“I don't care,” Maria said, stoutly. “She was down at the station and told me how Evelyn was lost, and then she went in with me.”