“Indeed?”
Nancy was still more unfavorably impressed and decided to ask the girl a few personal questions.
“Where is your home?”
“My home?” the girl looked startled, and then said quickly: “I haven’t any real home. I’m an orphan.”
“Oh,” Nancy murmured, but for some reason which she could not understand she found it impossible to feel especially sympathetic. It even occurred to her that Mary Mason had deliberately told a falsehood, but she tried to force this suspicion from her mind. Probably it was only the girl’s queer manner. “Your age?” she inquired.
“Eighteen.”
Again Nancy was surprised, for she had made up her mind that Mary Mason was at least two years older than that. She next asked a few questions concerning the work which the girl had done in the past and was better pleased with her answers. It