“More shame for him!� asseverated Mr. Popham stoutly. “Why, what a put-upon young woman you are, Miss Mellicent! Since you were ten years old, I do verily believe you’ve never had a pleasure, never had a present, never had a friend, never had an outing—no more than you’ve had a sweetheart.�
“Ah, but,� she cried, with a happy laugh, “I have had a friend! You’ve been my friend, haven’t you? And I have had pleasure in knowing that. And I’ve had an outing—twice. Once Uncle Davis took me to the World’s Fair—it was my twelfth birthday—and once, two years later, you treated me to the pantomime.�
“Did I? And uncommon generous and considerate it was of me, I must say, to have done that much for you, you poor little neglected, lonely creature!� uttered the remorseful Mr. Popham.
“I never forgot it,� Mellicent cried, with beaming eyes. “The glory and the splendor, the living roses and the talking animals and the shining fairies, and you to explain it all and be so kind. I never forgot it! Who could?�
“Why, I’m beginning to remember something about it myself!� said Mr. Popham, clearing. “We partook of a dozen oysters and some shandy-gaff at a fish-bar on the way home. According to present views, we ought to have shaken carbolic powder over that shellfish instead of pepper, and washed it down with Condy’s Fluid; but, being behind the present times, we enjoyed ourselves.�
“Didn’t we!� Mellicent clapped her hands. “I have gone back to that beautiful evening in memory hundreds and hundreds of times! It has helped me through such a lot of hard things—for things are hard sometimes. Sometimes, when you aren’t here, and there isn’t no one to speak to on the stairs, and the gentlemen are over-particular about their boots and changeable about the hours for their meals, things get the better of me to that extent that I scream and run!�
“Scream and run, do you?� said the puzzled Mr. Popham. “And how do you do it? Or do you do it without knowing how, eh?�
“I shriek out loud and hear myself as though my voice came from a long way off,� said Mellicent, opening her large eyes, “and then my feet begin to run. I scream, and I run screaming up to the little top attic I slept in when I came here as a child, where my old rag doll is still, and mother’s patchwork counterpane covers the truckle-bed. And I hide my head in that, and cry myself quiet and patient again!�
“And Lord have mercy on your lonely little soul!� cried Mr. Popham. “Patient you are, and that’s the truth!� He took the knotty red hand and held it in both of his for an instant, looking at the downcast face. “But don’t scream and run any more. It isn’t good for you!�
“I haven’t screamed and runned for quite a long time now,� she answered. “But�—her poor lips trembled—“I think I shall when you are gone for good.�