But when I got to the top of the stairs, it was only Mr. Howell, who
had brought his visitor to the flood district, and on getting her
splashed with the muddy water, had taken her to my house for a towel
and a cake of soap.
I lighted the lamp in the hall, and Mr. Howell introduced the girl.
She was a pretty girl, slim and young, and she had taken her wetting
good-naturedly.
"I know we are intruders, Mrs. Pitman," she said, holding out her
hand. "Especially now, when you are in trouble."
"I have told Miss Harvey a little," Mr. Howell said, "and I promised
to show her Peter, but he is not here."
I think I had known it was my sister's child from the moment I lighted
the lamp. There was something of Alma in her, not Alma's hardness or
haughtiness, but Alma's dark blue eyes with black lashes, and Alma's
nose. Alma was always the beauty of the family. What with the day's
excitement, and seeing Alma's child like this, in my house, I felt
things going round and clutched at the stair-rail. Mr. Howell caught
me.
"Why, Mrs.
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