From the rock where she sat a portion of the Hillcrest road was visible. She was still thinking of Imogene and Dorothy, when a red and a white sweater appeared on the distant road moving in the direction of St. Helen’s. “Dorothy and Imogene on the way home from Hillcrest,” she thought to herself. They were walking very close together, apparently reading something, for Virginia could see something white held between them. All at once they stopped, looked up and down the road, and then disappeared among the bushes that edged the roadside. Virginia was about to call them, thinking perhaps they had seen her, and were coming through the pastures to where she was; but before she had time even to call, they reappeared, and walked more hurriedly toward the school. This time they were not close together, and the paper had disappeared.
The founder of the Vigilantes, perplexed by this strange behavior, did not move until the two girls had turned into the driveway of St. Helen’s. Then she jumped from the rock. She would go back across the pastures to the gate which she had entered, then turn down the road and investigate. She felt like a true Vigilante, indeed! Something was in the air! She had felt it the moment she discovered Imogene and Dorothy in secret conference. Perhaps, in the roadside bushes she would find the solution. Had the girls been Mary and Anne, Virginia would never have questioned. Moreover, she would have felt like a spy in suspecting their behavior. But Imogene had long given good cause for righteous suspicion; and were not the Vigilantes pledged to guard against evil-doers?
She hurried across the pastures. The sun, which had been out of sight all day, now at time of setting shone out clear and bright and was reflected in every little pool. She reached the gate, closed it behind her, and was about to turn down the road, when she saw sitting on a rock by St. Helen’s gate a weary, worn-looking woman with a child. Something in the woman’s expression made Virginia forget the errand upon which she was bent. She looked more than discouraged—almost desperate. The little girl by her side sat upon a shabby satchel, and regarded her mother with sad, questioning eyes. There was something about them so lonely and pathetic that Virginia’s eyes filled with quick tears. She crossed the road and went up to them.
“Are—are you in any trouble?” she asked hesitatingly. “Can I help you?”
The woman in turn hesitated before she answered. But this young lady was apparently not like the two who had passed her but a moment before. She looked at her little girl, whose tired eyes were red from crying. Then she answered Virginia.
“I’m in a deal of trouble,” she said slowly. “I’ve been sick, and we’ve spent our money; and because we were three months back on the rent, we were turned out this morning. I’m looking for work—any kind will do—and I came to Hillcrest because I was hoping to get it at the school there. I’ve heard tell of how Miss King is very kind; but the two young ladies, who passed here just a few minutes ago, said there was no work there at all. I guess they didn’t have much time for the likes of me. Do you go there, too?”
“Yes,” said Virginia. “But they don’t know whether there’s any work or not at St. Helen’s. I don’t know either; but I know Miss King would like to find some for you if she could. Anyway, I want you to come to our cottage to supper with me. You are my guests—you and—what is the little girl’s name?”
“Mary. And I’m Mrs. Michael Murphy. But, miss, you don’t mean come to supper with you? You see, we ain’t fit.”
“Yes, you are perfectly fit. Saturday night no one dresses up. Please come, and then you can see Miss King after supper. You’d like to come, wouldn’t you, Mary?”
Poor little Mary cared not for etiquette. Besides, she was plainly hungry. She pulled her mother’s dress.