It was Mrs. Dowager Diamonds, alias Henrietta, alias Mrs. Edward Ramsay!
"Clever! My, how clever!" she exclaimed, as though the sob in my voice that I couldn't control had been a bit of acting.
She was feeling for her glasses. When she got them and hooked them on her nose and got a good look at me—why, she just dropped them with a smash upon the desk.
I looked for a minute from her to the Bishop.
"I remember you very well, Mrs. Ramsay. I hope you haven't forgotten me. I've often wanted to thank you for your kindness," I said slowly, while she as slowly recovered. "I think you'll be glad to know that I am thoroughly well-cured. Shall I tell Mrs. Ramsay how, Bishop?"
I put it square up to him. And he met it like the little man he is—perhaps, too, my bit of charity to the Cruelty children had pleased him.
"I don't think it will be necessary, Miss Olden," he said gently. "I can do that for you at some future time."
And I could have hugged him; but I didn't dare.
We had tea there in the Board rooms. Oh, Mag, remember how we used to peep into those awful, imposing Board rooms! Remember how strange and resentful you felt—like a poor little red-haired nigger up at the block—when you were brought in there to be shown to the woman who'd called to adopt you!
It was all so strange that I had to keep talking to keep from dreaming. I was talking away to the matron and the Bishop about the play-room I'm going to fit up out of that bare little place upstairs. Perhaps the same child doesn't stay there very long, but there'll always be children to fill it—more's the cruel pity!