"You—you asked for him that night when you came before; and Mrs. Carew—begging your pardon, miss—said you were bad, and told me to take you and throw you in the street."
"So it was you that did it?" the girl cried, sharply.
"No, miss. I could not have treated a dog like that," whispered Jones, glancing over his shoulder, lest he be overheard. Then he told her how much he had pitied her, and how he had placed her in the carriage, hoping some one would care for her.
"God bless you for your pity!" cried the girl, melted almost to tears; and, in her turn, she told Jones who she really was, and that when she had asked him for his master that night, she had meant her father, not knowing that he was dead.
"Mrs. Carew told you a willful falsehood," she said, angrily; then paused, remembering that it was not dignified to discuss her step-mother with a servant, no matter how great the provocation.
"And you must really let me come in, because I have important business with your mistress. If she discharges you for permitting me to enter, I will get my friends to procure you another situation," she added, kindly.
The man stood aside in respectful assent.
"Thank you kindly, Miss Carew. You will find my mistress with her son and daughter in the library," he said.
"So he is here. So much the better," thought Kathleen.