The girl looked down at her traveling-bag.
“Oh, that's nothing; I'll help you to carry it;” and Pinky took it from her hand.
“Couldn't we leave it here?” asked Flora.
“It might not be safe; servants are not always to be trusted, and Mrs. Bray's rooms are locked; we can easily carry it between us. I'm strong—got good country blood in my veins. You see I'm from the country as well as you; right glad we met. Don't know what you would have done.”
And she drew the girl out, talking familiarly, as they went.
“Haven't had your dinner yet?”
“No; just arrived in the cars, and came right here.”
“You must have something to eat, then. I know a nice place; often get dinner there when I'm out.”
The girl did not feel wholly at ease. She had not yet been able to get sight of Pinky's closely-veiled features, and there was something in her voice that made her feel uncomfortable.
“I don't care for any dinner,” she said; “I'm not hungry.”