He had got a book, and was reading while mother cleared the table. When she had done, and we two were alone together, he put down the book, and turned to look at me across the corner of the table.
"Better, Kitty?" said he.
"I don't know, father," I said.
"There don't seem to be enough in the loss of a watch to make you sick and unhappy," says he. "It's a misfortune, and I'm sorry for it. That's all. Not worth breaking your heart about."
"No, father," I said in a whisper. If only that had been all!
"Kitty," says father suddenly, "I think you had best see Mr. Armstrong."
"See Mr. Armstrong, father!"
"Yes," said he. "I think maybe you'd tell Mr. Armstrong what you won't tell mother nor me."
I didn't suppose father meant more than just what I had heard the policeman say, and I answered—
"O no!—please!"