"Why of course," replied the girl who was being delayed. "Do you think
I'd leave a sick girl sitting out here all alone?"
Kate felt like apologizing. It seemed rather small—that interrupting a death to save a life.
"Where do you live?" her companion was asking. She pointed to the quarters. "In one of those?"
"The second one," Katie told her. "And thank Heaven," she told herself, "the first one is closed!"
"Lean on me," directed the girl in pink, with a touch of the gentle authority of strong to weak. "Don't be afraid to lean on me."
Kate felt the quick warm tears against her eyelids. "You're very kind," she said, and the quiver in her voice was real.
They walked slowly on, silently. Katie was trembling now, and in earnest. "My name is Katherine Jones," she said at last, looking timidly at the girl who was helping her.
It wrought a change. The girl's mouth closed in a hard line. A hard, defending glitter seemed to seal her eyes. She did not respond.
"May I ask to whom I am indebted for this kindness?" It was asked with gentleness.
But for the moment it brought no response. "My name is Verna Woods," came at last with an unsteady defiance.