“Yes; I should not mind it so much if only you could be with me, dear,” added Floy, eagerly.
But Maybelle was relentless.
The success of the plot she had in her mind depended on the separation of these two, who seemed to have no one in the world but each other.
So she persisted in throwing cold water on all the woman’s plans, declaring that there were thousands of women out of work and starving in the great city, and that her father was doing Floy a great favor in giving her this position when hundreds of others would have been so glad to get it.
“And mamma can recommend Floy to a good lodging-house,” she added. “It is kept by a woman who used to keep house for us when I was a child. She married a car-driver, and went to live in New York. She has been keeping a salesgirls’ boarding-house ten years, and they have a charming home with her, I am sure. So Floy will be as safe with her as under your own protection.”
“And you think she is a good woman, and will be kind to my poor child, Miss Maybelle?”
“Yes, indeed!” earnestly.
“That takes a load off my mind, I assure you, and I will write this woman a special letter, or perhaps I had better go with Floy to New York myself and talk with this Mrs. ——”
“Horton,” said Maybelle.
“Yes, Horton—thank you.”