"I'm only happy. I was dying long before I came here,
and now I can rest in a bed, and perhaps I will have the courage to get
well again."
"Of course you will," insisted Dorothy, delighted that she had been
instrumental in actually saving a life. "And perhaps Christmas will bring
you peace and courage."
"No, but you have brought it. When I look at your fair face-- Don't you
know, that was why I put the ring in your bag?" she asked suddenly. "I
knew your face would clear you before any accuser in the world."
Dorothy put her finger to her lips. She did not want Miss Dearing to
discuss the painful subject. But the sick woman was persistent.
"And from that moment some evil genius followed me. I did it because other
detectives had been praised for making arrests, and I had made none. I
could not afford to lose my place, for my mother--was dying. She died,
thank God, before she knew her daughter had lied for her, had herself
actually been accused of stealing--stealing to earn a dollar!"
"Now, please," begged Dorothy, "do not talk any more about it. When you
get well I will come in and see you. My aunt will want a great deal of
sewing done. Perhaps you may be able to come to her."
It was actually noon-time, and Dorothy had to hurry back to The Cedars.
Miss Pumfret and the captain were still talking about old family affairs,
and seemed supremely happy as she left them.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193