At sight of the women in their plain white caps and dark calico
gowns, Jessie was seized with a nervous desire to laugh, and hid
behind Polly, whispering,--
"You do the talking, Polly; I can't."
"But what shall I say?" returned Polly, in the same tone.
"Isn't there a matron or something?" said Jessie doubtfully. "Ask
for her."
By this time, Alan had joined them and they held a hasty
consultation, as a result of which Alan walked straight up to the
old women. Hat in hand, and a smile on his bright, boyish face, he
bowed low before them and asked if he could be directed to the
matron's room. Alan's smile never failed to move a woman's heart,
no matter whether she was old or young. In the present instance,
one of the aged dames tottered to her feet, saying,--
"Bless your heart, sonny! I'll show you, myself, to pay for your
sweet manners." And she toddled away, followed by the girls and by
Alan whose sweet manners had collapsed into a stifled giggle at
the unlooked-for compliment.
They were taken into a long, wide hall through the middle of which
ran a strip of rag carpet, edged with plain wooden settees.
Everything was scrupulously neat and clean, but the only ornament
in sight was a stuffed poodle under a glass case, above which hung
the somewhat inappropriate motto: _God loveth a cheerful
giver_.
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