"Certainly not," Martha assured him. "Certainly not!"
"The inscription on the inside puzzles me. 'Dear Daddy, from Claire.' Now, assuredly, you're not _dear Daddy,_ Martha."
Mrs. Slawson laughed. "Not on your life, I ain't _Dear Daddy,_ sir. Dear Daddy was Judge Lang of Grand Rapids--you know, where the furnitur' an' the carpet-sweepers comes from--He died about a year ago, an' Miss Claire, knowin' how much store I set by her, an' how I'd prize her picture, she give me the locket, as you see it."
"You say Grand Rapids?--the young lady, Miss Claire, as you call her, lives in Grand Rapids?"
"I suppose you think I am very inquisitive, asking so many questions, but the fact is, I am extremely interested. You will see why, when I explain that several weeks ago, one day downtown, I saw a little girl--a young lady--who might have been the original of this very picture, the resemblance is so marked. But, of course, if your young lady lives in Grand Rapids, she can't be my little girl--I should say, the young woman I saw here in New York City. But if they were one and the same, they couldn't look more alike. The only difference I can see, is that the original of your picture is evidently a prosperous 'little sister of the rich,' and the original of mine--the one I've carried in my mind--is a breadwinner. She was employed in an office where I had occasion to go one day on business. The next time I happened to drop in there--a few days later--she was gone. I was sorry. That office was no place for her, but I would have been glad to find her there, that I might have placed her somewhere else, in a safer, better position. I hope she has come to no harm."
Martha hung fire a moment. Then, suddenly, her chin went up, as with the impulse of a new resolve.
"I'll be open an' aboveboard with you, sir," she said candidly. "The world is certaintly small, an' the way things happen is a caution. Now, who'd ever have thought that you'd 'a' seen my Miss Claire, but I truly believe you have. For after her father died she come to New York, the poor lamb! for to seek her fortune, an' her as innercent an' unsuspectin' as my Sabina, who's only three this minit. She tried her hand at a lot o' things, an' thank God an' her garden-angel for keepin' her from harm, for as delicate an' pretty as she is, she can't _help_ attractin' attention, an' you know what notions some as calls themselves gen'lemen has, in this town. Well, Miss Claire is livin' under my roof, an' you can betcher life I'm on the job--relievin' her garden-angel o' the pertectin' end o' the business. But Miss Claire's that proud an' inderpendent-like she ain't contented to be idle. She's bound to make her own livin', which, she says, it's everybody's dooty to do, some ways or other. So my eye's out, as you might say, for a place where she can teach, like she's qualified to do. Did I tell you, she's a college lady, an' has what she calls a 'degree,' which I didn't know before anythin' but Masons like himself had 'em.