“At any rate,” retorted Miss Fifield, “I don’t lose my glasses a dozen times a day. And I don’t put things in the oven to bake and get to mooning and let them burn up. I admit I was in fault about this, and I am as sorry as I can be for the trouble it has made, and most of all for the unjust suspicion it has brought on Rose; but, fortunately, no one but ourselves is aware of this, and I don’t know as it will make matters any better to harp on it forever.”
In fact, it needed no words to tell that the Fifields were not only heartily sorry for what had happened, but decidedly ashamed. For every one had been touched in the way to be felt most keenly; Squire Fifield in that he had been proven unjust and mistaken in his opinion, Miss Eudora that she had been hard-hearted, and Miss Fifield that she had failed in memory and laid herself open to blame. This blow at the especial pride of each, made them, while really glad that Rose had been proved innocent, for the moment almost wish that she or some one could at least have been guilty enough to have saved them the present irritation of chagrin and humiliation.
Perhaps unconsciously something of this showed itself in Mr. Nathan’s manner as he said: “Yes, Rose, we deeply regret that we have wrongfully accused you—though I must still say that under the circumstances we seemed justified in doing so, and I hope you will accept this as a compensation for the trouble it has made you,” and he dropped a couple of gold eagles in her lap.
Rose’s cheeks crimsoned. “I don’t want any such money,” she cried hotly, flinging the gold coins to the floor. “Because I was poor and hadn’t any home or friends you thought I must be a liar and a thief. If you had said as though you’d meant it that you were sorry for the way you had treated me it would have been all I asked. I don’t ask to be paid for being honest. It’s an insult for you to offer to, and I’d beg before I’d touch it, I would!”
“Rose, Rose!” reproved Mrs. Blossom, who had been unable to check the indignant torrent. “I trust you will overlook the way Rose has spoken,” she hastened to say. “This last week has been a great strain on her, and her nerves are in a condition that she is hardly responsible.” As she spoke she gave a warning glance at Silence, from the expression of whose face she knew that she approved of Rose’s action, and was fearful would endorse it in words; at the same time Mrs. Patience looked at Rose in amazement that she should dare thus to provoke Nathan Fifield’s well-known irascible temper, and all present waited for the explosion they expected would follow.
But contrary to their expectation after a moment’s amazement he began to laugh. “She’ll do,” he said to Mrs. Blossom with a nod of approval. “Grit like that will pull through every time, and she’s got it about right, too. Upon my word,” rubbing his hands as if at a sudden idea, “if no one else puts in a claim I will be tempted to adopt her myself. I believe an education wouldn’t be wasted, and with her spunk I’d like to see what she would make.”
One good thing about Rose’s temper was that though fiery its flame was quickly spent, and penitence was almost sure to swiftly follow wrath. It was so in this case; hardly had he ceased speaking when a meek little voice was heard, “I didn’t do right at all, Mr. Fifield, to talk to you as I did, and I hope you’ll forgive me?”
“Well, my dear,” was the answer, “I didn’t do right either in being so ready to think evil of you, in being on the lookout for something wrong, as I was, and I hope you’ll forgive me?”
“And me, too,” sobbed Miss Eudora. “I never was hard on anybody before in my life, and I’m sure I never will be again.”
“And now,” observed Miss Fifield drily, “I suppose I ought to ask to be forgiven for being the guilty one.”