The girl passed lightly over the floor and stood by the woman’s side, placing one hand on her shoulder to attract her attention.
She lifted her haggard face in a bewildered way, and gazed with a vacant stare first upon her child, then upon Editha.
“Help!” she muttered, her hands working nervously. “We’ll need help soon, or——”
A shudder finished the sentence more impressively than words could have done, and then, without taking any further notice of her strange visitor, she relapsed into her former indifference and position.
Editha was appalled at what she saw. She had not dreamed of such misery as this, and her face grew white and grave with sorrow and pity. Drawing her purse from her pocket, she took a bill from it with eager, trembling fingers.
“Milly,” she said, in a low tone, pressing it into her hand, “go quickly and get something with which to make a fire and something to eat; you know what you need better than I can tell you.”
The words were scarcely uttered when the child’s thin fingers clutched the money, and with a smothered cry of thankfulness, she was gone like a flash of light.
Editha then turned her attention to the mother. Going to her side, she touched her gently on the shoulder.
“My poor woman,” she said, kindly, “how long have you been like this?”
She looked up again, with the same vacant stare as before.