"Oh, then," said May piteously, "I may stay with you, may I not?"
"Well, my dear," said the old woman smiling encouragingly, "that will be as you please, I daresay. I have no doubt we should get on together. Of course you would like to see the room; we have only one to be let."
She half rose from her chair.
"No, no," cried May. "Pray sit down. Do not disturb yourself. I am sure I shall like it."
"Then, my dear," said the old lady, smiling again, but looking curiously at the worn face and bright eyes and weary figure of this young girl, who was willing to take a room without seeing it, "there are, you know, a few business arrangements to be considered. We shall have to charge you seven shillings and sixpence a week for your room. You will dine in or out, as you please."
"I am sure I am very much obliged to you. I had no idea----" here she paused. She thought it just as well not to say any more.
The old lady looked at May again. She smiled, but there seemed to be something over-eager in this young girl.
"May I ask, do you belong to London?"
"Yes."
"Ah, I am glad of that. Then you will perhaps know the name of this gentleman. He is not the rector of our parish, but one of the Canons of St. Paul's."