"They've gone off and left me! The takings didn't meet expenses; there
was no treasury."

"That's bad," responded Vane gravely. "Do you mean they've left
you alone?"

"No; it's worse than that. I suppose I could go--somewhere--but there's
Mrs. Marvin and Elsie."

"The child who dances?"

The girl assented, and Vane looked thoughtful. He had already noticed
that Mrs. Marvin, whom he supposed to be the child's mother, was worn and
frail, and he did not think there was anything she could turn her hand to
in a vigorous mining community. The same applied to his companion, though
he was not greatly astonished that she had taken him into her confidence.
The reserve that characterizes the insular English is less common in the
West, where the stranger is more readily taken on trust.

"The three of you stick together?" he suggested.

"Of course! Mrs. Marvin's the only friend I have."

"Then I suppose you've no idea what to do?"

"No," she confessed, and then explained, not very clearly, that it was
the cause of her distress and that they had had bad luck of late. Vane
could understand that as he looked at her. Her dress was shabby, and he
fancied that she had not been bountifully fed.