other, out of fellow-feeling, I reckon.”
She went before me through a double doorway, trailing her scarf behind her, and I came into a pleasant, old-fashioned room, crowded with fussy little ornaments and large furniture.
It was thickly carpeted, and darkly papered, but was lit to warmth by a bright open fire of coals. The glow was caught high up by a hanging chandelier with long crystal pendants, and under this stood a little boy. My heart tightened at sight of him, he looked so small and delicate.
“Here is our new friend, Robbie,” said Mrs. Brane. “Come and shake hands.”
I took the clammy little hand and kissed the sallow little face. The child looked up. Such a glare of speechless, sudden terror I have never seen in the eyes of any child. I hope I shall never see it again. I stepped back, half afraid, and hurt, for I love children, and children love me, and this little, sickly thing I longed to take close to my heart.
“Why, Robbie!” said Mrs. Brane, “Robbie, dear! He's very timid, Miss Gale, you'll have to excuse him.”
She had not seen the look, only the shrinking gesture. He was much worse than “timid.” But I was really too overwhelmed to speak. I turned away, tears in my silly eyes, and took off my hat and coat in silence, tucking in a stray end of hair. The child had got into his mother's lap, and was clinging to her, while she laughed and coaxed him. Under her encouragements he ventured to look up, then threw himself back, stiffened and shrieked, pointing at me, “It's her hair! It's her hair! See her hair!”
For a few moments his mother was fairly unnerved, then she began to laugh again, looked apologetically at me, and, rocking the poor, frightened baby in her arms, “Oh, Miss Gale,” she said sweetly, “we're not used to such splendor in our old house. Come, Robbie dear, all women are not as little and black and dreary as your poor mamma. I'll let him creep off into a corner, Miss Gale, while we have tea, then he'll get used to your prettiness and that wonderful hair from a distance.”
As I came up, the child fled from me and crouched in a far corner of the room, from which his little white face glimmered fearfully.
Mrs.
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