"How old is he now?" Winifred inquired.
"He will be nine the day after to-morrow, but he seems older than that. He's a very clever little boy; he reads a great deal, and he can draw beautiful pictures. Mother thinks it's because he is so much by himself that he gets to be so old-fashioned. I'm eleven, but I'm not nearly so clever as Jack."
"I suppose you are very fond of him," said Winifred. "A person would naturally be very fond of a brother who is a cripple."
"I love him better than anything else in the world," said Betty simply.
At that moment the apartment house was reached.
"Isn't it strange that we live in the same house and never spoke to each other before?" remarked Winifred, as they mounted the first flight of stairs together. "We haven't lived here very long, though; only since January."
"We have lived here for two years," said Betty, "and we don't know any of the people in the house."
Winifred's eyes opened wide in surprise, but they were already on the first landing, and her mother had rung the bell of their own apartment.
"Good-bye," she said, "this is where we live. I hope I shall see you again soon."
Betty stood for a moment gazing at the closed door, behind which her new acquaintances had disappeared, and then she toiled on, up three more long steep flights of stairs, until, on the very top landing of all, she paused, and taking a key from her pocket, proceeded to open a door on her right.