was inwardly
quivering, and every moment found it more and more difficult to control
herself. Never in all her life before had she been so relentlessly,
harshly accused. In trying to conceal her emotion she only gave
herself the appearance of rigid inflexibility.
Her visitor regarded her stonily for a moment and then abruptly brushed
past her toward the door. Nan made no attempt to intercept her, but
suddenly the hard lines about her mouth relaxed, her eyes softened, and
she held out her hands with an imploring gesture.
"Won't you please tell me where Ruth is hurt?" she cried. "Won't you
let me do something for her? Let me--please let me! If you'll only
listen a minute I'll tell you--"
But it was too late now. She was given no reply; permitted no chance
to vindicate herself. Her visitor's hard lips quivered, but she
uttered no syllable. In a moment she was gone.
After the door had closed upon her and it was quite certain that she
would not come back, Nan turned and rushed headlong, like a young
savage, upstairs and into her own room. What took place there it would
have been impossible to discover, for the shades were jerked fiercely
down, the door sharply shut and locked, and Delia, coming up some time
later, could not make out a sound within nor get a reply to her
requests to be admitted, though she stood outside and pleaded for an
hour.
At twilight the door was opened and Nan came out quite composed, but
bearing on her face the unmistakable traces of tears which, however,
Delia was wise enough to let pass unremarked.
"Time for dinner?" asked the girl, curtly.
"No, not yet. It ain't but just six," replied the woman. "Are you
hungry? I'll get you something if you are."
"No, I'm not hungry. But I feel kind of queer, somehow. There's an
empty feeling I have that makes me uncomfortable. But I'm not hungry.
O Delia!" she burst out, vehemently, "I wish--I wish--I had my mother.
A girl needs--her mother--sometimes--"
"Always," declared Delia, with conviction.
For a little time there was silence between them. Then Nan said, "Look
here, Delia--I want to tell you something. I feel just horribly. I
never felt so unhappy in all my life. That lady who was here this
afternoon is Ruth Newton's mother. She came to see me because this
morning Ruth fell from the tree in Reid's lot and hurt herself, and
Mrs. Newton thinks I made her do it. I didn't. Honestly, I didn't. I
had climbed the tre
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