"
By such casuistry Aunt Deborah quieted her conscience, and carefully
put the ring away among her bonds and mortgages.
"Who'd think a little ring like that should be worth so much?" she
said to herself. "It's clear waste of money. But then Ferdinand
didn't buy it. It was give to him, and a very foolish gift it was
too. Railly, it makes me nervous to have it to take care of. It's
so little it might get lost easy."
Aunt Deborah plumed herself upon her shrewdness. It was not easy to
get the advantage of her in a bargain, and yet she had accepted the
ring as security for a considerable loan without once questioning its
genuineness. She relied implicitly upon her nephew's assurance of
its genuineness, just as she had relied upon his assertion of
relationship. But the time was soon coming when she was to be
undeceived.
One day, a neighbor stopped his horse in front of her house, and
jumping out of his wagon, walked up to the door and knocked.
"Good-morning, Mr. Simpson," said the old lady, answering the knock
herself; "won't you come in?"
"Thank you, Miss Deborah, I can't stop this morning. I was at the
post-office just now, when I saw there was a letter for you, and
thought I'd bring it along."
"A letter for me!" said Aunt Deborah in some surprise, for her
correspondence was very limited. "Who's it from?"
"It is post-marked New York," said Mr.
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