“I do know,” she said in response to the foregoing question. “Ruth is not a sneak,--she tells me everything; but her enterprises are so mild that there would be no harm if she left them untold. She called on a poor young girl who, after a long illness, desires pupils in Spanish.”
“A young girl, unmarried, who, a few weeks ago, through a merciful fate, lost her child at its birth.”
The faint flush on Mrs. Levice’s cheek receded.
“Who told you this?” she questioned in an even, low voice.
“I thought you could not know. Mrs. Blake, the landlady where the girl lives, told me.”
“And how, pray, do you connect Ruth with this girl?”
“I will tell you. Mrs. Blake does my white sewing. I was there this morning; and just as I went into her room, I saw Ruth leaving another farther down the hall. Naturally I asked Mrs. Blake who had the room, and she told me the story.”
“Naturally.” The cutting sarcasm drove the blood to Mrs. Lewis’s face.
“For me it was; and in this case,” she retorted with rising accents, “my vulgar curiosity had its vulgar reward. I heard a scandalous account of the girl whom my cousin was visiting, and, outside of Dr. Kemp, Ruth is the only visitor she has had.”
“I know you are, Aunt Esther. But what I find so very queer is that Dr. Kemp, who pretends to be her friend,--and I have seen them together many times,--should have sent her there. Don’t you?”
“I do not understand it at all,--neither Ruth nor him.”
“Surely you don’t think Ruth knew anything of this?” questioned Mrs. Lewis, leaning forward and raising her voice in horror.
“Of course not,” returned Mrs. Levice, rather lamely. She had long ago acknowledged to herself that there were depths in her daughter’s nature that she had never gauged.
“I know what an idol his patients make of him, but he is a man nevertheless; and though you may think it horrible of me, it struck me as very suggestive that he was that girl’s only friend.”
“Therefore he must have been a good friend.”
Mrs. Lewis bounded from her chair and turned a startled face to Mr. Levice, who had thus spoken, standing in the doorway. Mrs. Levice breathed a sigh of hysterical relief.
“Good-afternoon, Jennie,” he said, coming into the room and shaking her hand; “sit down again. Good-afternoon Esther;” he stooped to kiss his wife.