Just look at me, Mrs.
Pitman! Do I look as if I don't care?"
She looked half killed, poor lamb.
"He may be out of town, searching for a better position," I tried to
comfort her. "He wants to have something to offer more than himself."
"I only want him," she said, looking at me frankly. "I don't know why
I tell you all this, but you are so kind, and I _must_ talk to some
one."
She sat there, in the cozy corner the school-teacher had made with a
portiere and some cushions, and I saw she was about ready to break
down and cry. I went over to her and took her hand, for she was my own
niece, although she didn't suspect it, and I had never had a child of
my own.
But after all, I could not help her much. I could only assure her that
he would come back and explain everything, and that he was all right,
and that the last time I had seen him he had spoken of her, and had
said she was "the best ever." My heart fairly yearned over the girl,
and I think she felt it. For she kissed me, shyly, when she was
leaving.
With the newspaper files before me, it is not hard to give the details
of that sensational trial.
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