Her hands
were bare and she held them up pitifully before the comfortably--to
her richly--clad maiden so out of her element in this poverty-stricken
district.
"Please, Miss," the girl pleaded; "won't you come and help me? Ma's
sick--she fainted--and pa's gone away. I'm all alone with her. Ma's
down on the floor an' don't move--I'm afraid she's dead. Oh, please do
come, Miss, just a minute, and--"
"Where do you live?" Helen interrupted, indicating by her tone of
sympathy that she would do as requested.
"Right there," the little girl replied, pointing with her hand toward
one of the houses a short distance ahead. "Come on, please. Just a
minute--help me get ma on the bed. I'll find one of the neighbors to
help after that."
"All right, go ahead," Helen directed.
"It seems that I am fated to do at least a little of the work that we
set out to do, but were prevented from doing by some unfriendly
interests. It's a pity some of these people are so prejudiced, for we
could really do a lot for them."
Helen's small conductress led the way to the entrance of a miner's
cottage that, to all outward appearance from the front, was dark
within.
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