“It’s good news for ye, miss.  The Governor’s sent his own kerridge for ye, then.  Blessed Mary, but it’s him that’s condescendin’.  Get right in, miss.”

Such a sudden safe harbor seemed almost too good to be true.  Lindsay was nearly asleep as the rubber-tired wheels rolled softly along through the city.  The carriage turned at length from the lights and swung up a long avenue between trees, and then stopped.  The door flew open, and Lindsay looked up steps and into a wide, lighted doorway, where stood a stout woman, who hastened to seize her bag and umbrella and take voluble possession of her.  The sleepy, dazed girl was vaguely conscious of large halls and a wide stair and a kind voice by her side that flowed ever on in a gentle river of words.  Then she found herself in a big, pleasant bed-room, and beyond was the open door of a tiled bath-room.

“Oh—­oh!” she said, and dropped down sideways on the whiteness of the brass bed, and put her arms around the pillow and her head, hat and all, on it.

“Poor child!” said pink-checked, motherly Mrs. Mooney.  “You’re more than tired, that I can see without trying, and no wonder, too!  I shan’t say another word to you, but just leave you to get to bed and to sleep, and I’m sure it’s the best medicine ever made, is a good comfortable bed and a night’s rest.  So I shan’t stop to speak another word.  But is there anything at all you’d like, Miss Lee?  And there, now, what am I thinking about?  I haven’t asked if you wouldn’t have a bit of supper!  I’ll bring it up myself—­just a bit of cold bird and a glass of wine?  It will do you good.  But it will,” as Lindsay shook her head, smiling.  “There’s nothing so bad as going to sleep on an empty stomach when you’re tired.”

“But I had dinner on the train, and I’m not hungry; sure enough, I’m not; thank you a thousand times.”

Mrs. Mooney reluctantly took two steps toward the door, the room shaking under her soft-footed, heavy tread.

“You’re sure you wouldn’t like—­” She stopped, embarrassed, and the blue eyes shone like kindly sapphires above the always-blushing cheeks.  “I’m mortified to ask you for fear you’d laugh at me, but you seem like such a child, and—­would you let me bring you—­just a slice of bread and butter with some brown sugar on it?”

Lindsay had a gracious way of knowing when people really wished to do something for her.  She flapped her hands, like the child she looked.  “Oh, how did you think of it?  I used to have that for a treat at home.  Yes, I’d love it!” And Mrs. Mooney beamed.

“There!  I thought you would!  You see, Miss Lee, that’s what I used sometimes to give my boy—­that’s the Governor—­when he was little and got hungry at bedtime.”