"There is nothing to forgive, absolutely nothing! And you are really the cousin of Edith Pyne?"
"You read that remarkable story in the papers this morning, did you not?" cut in Mr. Pryor. "Well, this is the child of that marriage. You may be sure the papers will contain many sensational points to-morrow that they failed to get to-day, and New York will be more surprised than it has been for many days."
"I don't know what your name is, Neil Lowell," exclaimed Edith, with a merry laugh, "but I am very much pleased that you are my cousin, and before you take off your boy's clothes, I should like to kiss you!"
There was general merriment, of course, but Mrs. Pryor's next question put an end to it.
"And Miss Chandler," she said, "what had she to do with it?"
There was silence for a moment, then Andrew Pryor answered:
"This young lady is in haste to pay a call. While she goes to change her dress I will tell you all that! Gwen, or the one of you that is nearest your size, will furnish you with clothes, my dear, until your wardrobe can be changed. Run away now, and be back as quickly as you can."
Understanding the kindness of the intention, Leonie gave him a glance of gratitude, and followed the girls from the room.
Laughing, chatting, asking a hundred questions in as many seconds, they went on their way as though they had been friends for life, and it was with a heart filled with the sincerest of gratitude, that Leonie realized that she had found friends at last, friends who would never fail her in her bitter struggle with loneliness and isolation.
They soon found a gown that would fit, and not long afterward she announced to them that she must make her call at the hospital.