“The wretch! Has he dared to return?” she exclaimed angrily.
A low voice called through the keyhole:
“It is only Ada, my dear. May I come in and speak to you?”
Little Eva unlocked the door and drew her friend inside, quickly turning the key again.
Ada Winton was the attendant Eva loved best of all, a pretty, sparkling brunette whose bright black eyes instantly saw the agitation of the unhappy girl.
“You have been crying, and I saw old St. Clair dodging out of your room. What did he want?” she asked pointblank.
“I—I hardly know,” the poor girl answered, so forlornly that Ada exclaimed brusquely:
“Up to his meanness again, eh, under the mask of fatherly kindness? Wanted to have you for his darling little pet, and send you off to school to fit you for the place, didn’t he?”
“Oh, Ada, were you listening at the keyhole?”
“Oh, no, dear; but the kind, fatherly old man has talked the same way to me—you aren’t the only pebble on the beach, my darling!” returned the vivacious Ada, a little slangily.