the fire,” apologized Eline. “We are especially nervous to-night.”
“Yes, do go,” begged the woman, “and when I have finished, I will show my gratitude by telling you all a very strange story. One forgets fear, sometimes, when a matter of deeper interest is brought up.”
“Very well,” assented Cora. “I will be back in a few minutes, and then we will all be primed for the wonderful story.”
“What is it?” whispered Jack in the passage-way, as the girls entered the library.
“Hush!” Cora cautioned. “I found her–in the barn.”
“The barn! Before the fire?” he gasped. “Did she – ?”
“After it was–going,” Cora managed to say. Then she put her finger to her lips.
The young folks, at least the girls, insisted upon huddling in the very darkest corner of the room.
“Don’t go near the phonograph,” cautioned Eline. “Musical sounds are very dangerous during a storm, I’ve heard.”
Then the absurdity of “musical sounds” from a silent phonograph occurred to her, and she laughed as quickly as did the others.
“Well it’s metal at any rate,” she amended, “and that is just as bad.” “Who’s your friend, Cora?” Ed asked, in an off-hand way.
“Oh, she is going to tell us a wonderful story,” put in Bess before Cora could reply. “Wait until she has finished her tea.”
“She looks like a deserted wife,” Belle ventured softly, in her usual strain of romance.
“What’s the indication?” asked Walter somewhat facetiously. “Now, do I look anything like a deserted lover?”
Cora got up and went out into the pantry again. She found the woman standing, waiting for her.
“I do not know if I was wise or foolish to have made that promise,” she said. “But as I have made it I will stand by it. I feel also that to talk will do me good. And, after all, what have I to fear more than I have already suffered?”
“We have no idea of insisting on your confidence,” Cora assured her. “But, of course, I would like to know why you went in our garage.”
“And I fully intend to tell you,” replied the woman. “Are you all young folks?”
“Just now, we are alone,” answered Cora. “We are going away to-morrow, and were finishing our arrangements when the barn caught fire.”
“I scarcely look fit to enter your–other room,” the woman demurred, with a glance at her worn clothing. “But I assure you I have been no place where there has been illness, or anything of that sort.”
“You are all right,” insisted Cora. “Come along. I am sure the girls are more frightened than ever now, for the storm is more furious.” The thunder and lightning seemed to be having “a second spasm,” as Jack put it.
A hush fell upon the little party as the strange woman entered. Even the careless one, Norton, looked serious. Somehow the presence of a gray-haired, lonely woman, in that unusually merry crowd, seemed almost a painful contrast.
“Sit here,” said Cora, pulling a chair out in a convenient position. “And won’t you take off your cape?”
“No, thank you,” replied the stranger. “I must talk while I feel like it, or I might disappoint you.” This was said with a smile, and the young folks noted that though the woman showed agitation, her eyes were now bright, and her voice firm.
“Very well,” Cora acceded. Then the woman told her strange story.
“Some time ago I was employed in an office. I had charge of the cataloging of confidential papers. I had been with the firm only a short time, when one day,” she paused abruptly, “one day I was very busy.
“A big piece of business had just been transacted, and there was a lot of ready cash in the office. It was my duty to see that the record of all finished business was entered in the books, and I was intent upon that task.”
Again she paused, and in the interval there came a flame of lightning followed by a roar of thunder.
“My, what a storm!” gasped the woman. “I’m glad I am not out in it.”
The remark seemed pathetic, and served to distract the most nervous of the girls from a fear that they otherwise would have felt.
“We are glad you are with us,” Belle ventured, as Cora hastened out into the kitchen, to make sure that all was right there.
The maids had been startled. Nettie was assuring a new girl that thunder storms were never disastrous in Chelton, but the latter had suddenly become prayerful, and would not answer the simplest questions. Assuring herself that Nettie could take care of the girl and two newly hired men, who had assembled in the kitchen, Cora went back to the library.
“Well, that day,” continued the woman, “marked my life-doom. As I worked over my books, and counted the money, I saw two men standing in the door. A young girl clerk–Nancy Ford–was nearest to them. As she saw them she screamed, and darted past them out–out somewhere in this big world, and I have never been able to find her since.”
The woman put up both hands to cover her pallid face, and sighed heavily. No one spoke. Eline had shifted her chair, unconsciously, very near the stranger, and sat with rapt attention waiting for the continuation of the story.
“Then,” went on the woman, “when Nancy Ford was gone I saw the men come toward me! I screamed, put my hand upon the cash I was counting–and then–they hit me!”
“Oh!” gasped Cora, involuntarily. “They robbed you!”
“Yes, they robbed me!” repeated the woman. “Not only of my employer’s money, but of my reputation, for the story I told afterward was not believed!”
“How dreadful!” exclaimed Bess, clasping her hands.
The boys, less demonstrative, did not interrupt with a single syllable. But they were impressed, nevertheless.
“Yes, I was discharged! I was shocked into a nervous collapse, and ever since I have been searching for Nancy Ford. Why did she run before any harm was done? Why did she flee at the sight of the men, who showed no indication of being robbers? Why did Nancy Ford not return to clear my name? I went to the hospital and was there for months. Oh, such terrible months! I was threatened with brain fever, from that mental searching for Nancy, but she never returned!”
Belle was stirred to sympathy by the recital, and, while no one saw her, brushed by the woman’s chair and slid into the gaping pocket of her cape her own little silver purse.
“My name is Margaret Raymond–Mrs. Raymond. I am a widow,” went on the woman finally, “and I am not ashamed or afraid now to have the world know who I am. I loved Nancy: she was almost like a daughter to me, and I would have trusted her with anything. But now–she has deserted me! And no one else can ever clear my name!”
“No one else?” Cora repeated.
“Some of the firm members believed my story, but it was vague and one could
