But she was not laughing now. Her face was full of the most kindly
concern. "Lord bless the child!" she said. "She don't know me yet.
I'm Mrs. Errol, dear, Mrs. Lucas Blenheim Errol. And if there's
anything you want--well, you've only got to mention it to me and it's
as good as done."

She spoke with a strong American accent. A Yankee of the Yankees was Mrs.
Errol, and she saw no reason to disguise the fact. She knew that people
smiled at her, but it made no difference to her. She was content to let
them smile. She even smiled at herself.

"You are very good," Anne murmured.

"Not a bit," said Mrs. Errol cheerfully. "I'm real pleased to have you,
dear. And don't you think you're giving any trouble to anybody, for there
isn't anything that pleases me so much as to have a girl to look after.
It's the biggest treat the Lord could send."

Anne smiled a little, conscious of a glow at the heart that she had not
known for many a day. She tried weakly to give her hand to her new
friend, but the pain of moving was so intense that she uttered a quick
gasp and abandoned the attempt.

But in an instant Mrs. Errol's fingers were wound closely about her own,
the large face, wonderfully smooth, save for a few kindly wrinkles about
the eyes, was bent to hers.

"There, dearie, there!" said the motherly voice, tender for all its
gruffness. "You're stiff in every limb, and no wonder. It's just natural.