“I think she is prettier than the one that got married, but it is a pity she belongs to such a family,” said Mrs. Anderson. “Mrs. Ferguson was just in here, and she says it is awful, that they are owing everybody.”
“That is not the girl's fault,” Anderson rejoined, with sudden fire.
“No, I suppose not,” said Mrs. Anderson, with an anxious look at him. “Only, if she hasn't been taught to think it doesn't matter if debts are not paid.”
“Well, I don't think that poor child is to be blamed,” Anderson said.
“Do they owe you?”
“She came in and paid me this morning.”
“Oh, I'm glad of that!” said his mother, and Anderson was conscious of intense guilt at his deception. Somehow half a lie had always seemed to him more ignoble than a whole one, and he had told a half one. He turned to leave the room, when there came a loud peal of the door-bell.
“Oh, dear, that will wake her up!” said his mother.
Anderson strode past her to the door, and there stood Eddy Carroll. He was breathless from running, and his pretty face was a uniform rose.
“Say,” he panted, “is my sister in here?”