"Yes; is she within?" asked Susy.
"No, dear; she has gone to church. Would you like to wait in for her, or
would you rather go and meet her? She has gone to St. James the Less,
the church just around the corner; you know it?"
"Yes, I know it," said Susy.
"They'll be coming out now," said Mrs. Craven, looking up at the
eight-day clock which stood in the passage. "If you go and stand by the
principal entrance, you are safe to see her."
"Thank you," said Susy.
"You are sure you wouldn't rather wait in the house?"
"No, really. Mother expects me back. My name is Susan Hopkins. My
mother keeps the stationer's shop in the High Street."
"To be sure," said Mrs. Craven gently. "I know the shop quite well."
Susy said good-bye, and then stepped down the little path. What a humble
abode the prime favorite, Ruth Craven, lived in! Susy's own home was a
palace in comparison. Ruth lived in a cottage which was little better
than a workman's cottage.
"There can't be more than two bedrooms upstairs," thought Susy. "And I
wonder if there is a sitting-room? Certainly there can't be more than
one. The old lady looked very nice; but, of course, she is quite a
common person. I should love to be Prime Minister to Kathleen O'Hara.
And why should there be such a fuss made about Ruth? I only wish the
post was mine--shouldn't I do a lot! Couldn't I help mother and Tom and
all of us? And there is that stupid little Ruth--oh, dear! oh, dear!
Well, I suppose I must give her the message.
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