The
men who make and keep them what they are go free and are let alone."
"Couldn't she have gone home? You said she was from the country.
Wouldn't they let her come back home?"
Mrs. Mundy shook her head. "Her own mother was dead and her stepmother
wouldn't let her come. She had young children of her own. Last month
she tried to end it all. She won't be here much longer. The doctor
says she'll hardly live six months. If we can get her in the City
Home--"
"The City Home!" The memory of what I had seen there came over me
protestingly. The girl had lived in hell. She need not die in it.
"Perhaps she can be sent somewhere in the country," I said, after a
while. "Mr. Guard might know of some one who will take her. Certainly
she can stay here until--until he knows what is best to do."
Mrs. Mundy got up. For a moment she looked at me, started to say
something, then went out of the room. She was crying. I wonder if I
said anything I shouldn't.
"Tell me of your mother's garden." I picked up the tiny flower and put
it on Lillie's cot, where its fragrance waked faint stirrings of other
days.
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