well, never mind, it's none o' my business. I cert'nly thought she said Hartley, though. Well, if you'n Mrs. Wortley can wait till ha' past eight—"
"Frank, dear," the girl broke in appealingly, but the young man shook his head.
"No, darling," he said firmly, and then looking straight at Luella, he went on: "This lady's name is Hartley. We are not—we are not related."
Luella stared blankly at him a moment, then turned to the girl. But she, though she got up from her seat and going over to the young man seized his hand and pressed it between her own, did not lift her eyes to the woman's troubled and accusing gaze.
Luella drew a long breath, took off her checked apron and rolled it mechanically into a bundle. Her face had hardened; only the shrewdness was left in her eyes.
"You might 'a told me so before," she said briefly, and turned on her heel.
The girl was crying on his shoulder. "Tell her, Frank, please tell her why," she begged, through her sobs.
Luella faced her sternly. "He needn't trouble
