THEY TOOK ME IN
"Who is she?"
"Couldn't say. She is a stranger here, I think."
"Yes, she lives in that little house down by the bridge, you know, girls, that tiny bit of a house covered with that white rose."
"Where we always got such lots of flowers to decorate with because no one ever lived there. Why, the house is almost tumbled down. How can anyone live there?"
"No one would if they were not very poor. Of course you can tell by the girl's clothes that she is poor."
"Come on, girls, never mind talking about her," said one of the number impatiently. "What difference does it make to us who she is? We will be late," and the troop of merry girls passed on down the street.
Meantime the subject of this conversation was hurrying in another direction, her eyes blinded by the quick tears that had sprung unbidden to them when the wistful glance she had cast at the girls had been met with only those of cold curiosity.
"It is hard to be so alone," she murmured, "but I must not let mamma know."