CHAPTER XXV
One morning shortly after this, while Tilly was busy cleaning up the house, she noticed a little girl at the front fence near the gate. The child was oddly dressed, wearing a skirt that was too long for her, stockings so large that they hung in folds about her thin ankles, a shirt-waist which had been cut down from a woman's size and clumsily remade, and a cheap sailor hat with flowing blue ribbons. The little girl was acting, Tilly thought, in a very queer way, for when Tilly approached the door the child lowered her head and with shy, furtive glances moved on, but as soon as Tilly disappeared she would return to the gate and stand peering over it in timid curiosity.
"Strange," the young wife mused, and when the little girl made no show of leaving, Tilly decided to speak to her. So, going suddenly to the porch, she called out: "Wait, little girl. Do you want anything?"
The head of the child hung down till the brim of her hat hid her eyes, and if she made any reply it was spoken so low that Tilly did not hear it. Tilly now went to her and leaned on the gate.
"Did you want anything with me?" she asked, most kindly, as she scanned the incongruous attire in half-amused wonder. The answer was delayed, but it finally came from lips rendered stubborn by embarrassment:
"I—I wanted to see you, but—but I thought maybe I'd better ask John first. He hasn't been over home yet, and I don't know whether he'd want me to come or not. He told me about you, Tilly. He told me, and nobody else, and I didn't let a soul know, either—my aunt, or Liz, or any one."
"Oh, I see! I know now. You are Dora, aren't you?"
"Yes'm," in great relief and with a lifted face. "I see. Then you know about me?"
"Oh yes, and you must come in and see me." Tilly opened the gate. The little pinched face appealed to her, as well as the child's crude timidity. Dora stepped gingerly inside, her coarse, ill-fitting shoes grating on the graveled walk. One of her little hands was loosely buried in a woman's black kid glove, the mate of which was damply clutched in bare fingers, the nails of which were jagged and black. By Tilly's side she clumsily moved along till they had reached the porch steps, where she paused hesitatingly.