"Why is it I am to be thus honored ?" The girl backed partially off the doorstep, her hair flapping in the wind, her cheeks flushed.
"Oh, you need n't put on so much style about it," she blurted out.
"You 're Mrs.Herndon, ain't you?
Well, then, this is the place where I was sent; but I reckon you ain't no more particular about it than I am.

There's others." "Who sent you to me ?" and Mrs.Herndon came forth into the sunshine.
"The preacher." "Oh, Mr.Wynkoop; then you must be the homeless girl whom Lieutenant Brant brought in the other day.

Why did you not say so at first?
You may come in, my child." There was a sympathetic tenderness apparent now in the tones of her voice, which the girl was swift to perceive and respond to, yet she held back, her independence unshaken.

With the quick intuition of a woman, Mrs.Herndon bent down, placing one hand on the defiant shoulder.
"I did not understand, at first, my dear," she said, soothingly, "or I should never have spoken as I did.

Some very strange callers come here.