'Will you tell us where to find my sister?' eagerly began Lilian, after a hasty glance around.
'Sister!' said Mrs Pratt. 'You are not ashamed to call her that; or—is it that you do not know?'
'I have guessed that—that her mother was to be pitied,' said Lilian in a low voice, a crimson flush suffusing her face.
'And you can still call her sister?'
'Yes.'
'God bless you, dear young lady! It's only the best and purest could say that. Let me—pray let me.'
And before Lilian could prevent her, Mrs Pratt sank on her knees and kissed the young girl's hands. It expressed all the more to me, because I judged that Mrs Pratt was not naturally so emotional as most people. She recovered herself quickly too. After turning away for a few moments towards the window, where she stood wiping her eyes, she was the same self-contained, quiet-looking, little woman we had first seen.
'Please forgive me, ladies; but, as you have guessed, I do know Marian Reed. Her poor mother was my only sister, and since her death, Marian has always lived with us. Mr Farrar has always paid very handsome for her; and she has been brought up like a—lady.' Mrs Pratt hesitated a little over the word, and added: 'I mean, compared with people like us—a deal better than my own little ones.'
To gain a little time for Lilian, I asked: 'How many children have you, Mrs Pratt?'
'We have seven, Miss; but I've a good husband; a better man than Jonathan doesn't breathe; and business is brisk; so we want for nothing.'