"You shut your eyes my child," replied the widow. "Here are your wages
and your sister's, for twelve days; do not move, I will put it in your
little bag. Mary has not succeeded in loosening your sandal, but the
physician who is paid to attend on the factory people will be here
directly, and will order what is proper for your poor foot. The manager
is having a litter fetched for you.--Where do you live?"

"We?" cried Selene, alarmed. "No, no, I must go home."

"But my child you cannot walk farther than the court-yard even if we both
help you."

"Then let me get a litter out in the street. My father--no one must
know--I cannot."

Hannah signed to Mary to leave them, and when she had shut the door on
the deformed girl, she brought a stool, sat down opposite to Selene, laid
a hand on the knee that was not hurt, and said:

"Now, dear girl, we are alone. I am no chatterbox, and will certainly
not betray your confidence. Tell me quietly who you belong to. Tell me
--you believe that I mean well by you?"

"Yes," replied Selene, looking the widow full in the face--
a regularly-cut face, set in abundant smooth brown hair, and with the
stamp of genuine and heart-felt goodness. "Yes--you remind me of my
mother."

"Well, I might be your mother."