"I should hope so," she murmured.
"But what did you tell him I wanted to see him for?" she asked, suddenly apprehensive.
Worth had sat down and begun upon a raft. "Why, I just told him. Told him you had come to find out some more about life."
"Worth! Told that to a strange man!"
"But I guess he didn't know what I meant, Aunt Kate. He's one of those awful dumb folks that talk mostly in foreign languages. I think he's some kind of a French Pole—or something."
She breathed deeper. "Oh, well perhaps one's confidences would be safe—with a French Pole."
"So he knows you want him, Aunt Kate, but he don't know just what you want him for."
"Yes; that's quite as well, I think," said Aunt Kate.
The other half of her life had almost passed when again there were footsteps—very hurried footsteps, these were.
It was not the French Pole, though some one who did not seem at home with the English tongue, some one who stood there looking at her as if he, too, wanted to cry.