“An only sister? What about—little Nellie?”
A sharp pang pierced Imelda’s heart. The question showed her that Cora did not know of the changes that had taken place. But as she hesitated Cora seemed to understand.
“Is little Nellie dead?” she asked.
“Yes!” softly answered Imelda’s voice, as her arms tightened about Cora’s waist. “Little Nellie is sleeping in our mother’s arms.”
Imelda felt the tremor in the weakened frame, but no answer came from the pallid lips. But when she looked up she observed the tears again stealing from beneath the closed lids.
“Dead! dead!” she whispered, “and I was not there. Maybe it was better so. If she had known all that had taken place in my life it would only have added another bitter drop to her already overflowing cup. But you, Imelda! What are you doing here so many miles from our western home? How came you here?”
“Do you remember Alice Day, who used to work at the store where we were both employed?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you also remember that it is long since she is no longer Alice Day but Mrs. Lawrence Westcot. Lawrence Westcot’s home is in Harrisburg and I have the care of her children, two sweet little girls.”
“Here in Harrisburg?”