True, he had left a note, and security. But
another terrible suspicion had entered the old lady's mind; the ring
might not be genuine.
"I must know at once," exclaimed the disturbed spinster. "I'll go
over to Brandon, to the jeweller's, and inquire. If it's paste,
then, Deborah Kensington, you're the biggest fool in Centreville."
Miss Deborah summoned Abner, her farm servant from the field, and
ordered him instantly to harness the horse, as she wanted to go to
Brandon.
"Do you want me to go with you?" asked Abner.
"To be sure, I can't drive so fur, and take care of the horse."
"It'll interrupt the work," objected Abner.
"Never mind about the work," said Deborah, impatiently. "I must go
right off. It's on very important business."
"Wouldn't it be best to go after dinner?"
"No, we'll get some dinner over there, at the tavern."
"What's got into the old woman?" thought Abner. "It isn't like her
to spend money at a tavern for dinner, when she might as well dine at
home. Interruptin' the work, too! However, it's her business!"
Deborah was ready and waiting when the horse drove up the door. She
got in, and they set out. Abner tried to open a conversation, but he
found Miss Deborah strangely unsocial. She appeared to take no
interest in the details of farm work of which he spoke.
"Something's on her mind, I guess," thought Abner; and, as we know,
he was right.
Pages:
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151