“In going up and down to your room, Miss, I want you to remember that there is a back stairway. Use the servants’ stairs, if you please!”
Helen made no reply. She wasn’t breaking much of the ice between her and Belle Starkweather, that was sure. And to add to Belle’s dislike for her cousin, there was another happening in which Miss Van Ramsden was concerned, soon after this.
Hortense was still abed, for the weather remained unpleasant—and there really was nothing else for the languid cousin to do. Miss Van Ramsden found Belle out, and she went upstairs to say “how-do” to the invalid. Helen was in the room making the spoiled girl more comfortable, and Miss Van Ramsden drew the younger girl out into the hall when she left.
“I really have come to see you, child,” she said to Helen, frankly. “I was telling papa about you and he said he would dearly love to meet Prince Morrell’s daughter. Papa went to college with your father, my dear.”
Helen was glad of this, and yet she flushed a little. She was quite frank, however: “Does—does your father know about poor dad’s trouble?” she whispered.
“He does. And he always believed Mr. Morrell not guilty. Father was one of the firm’s creditors, and he has always wished your father had come to him instead of leaving the city so long ago.”
“Then he’s been paid?” cried Helen, eagerly.
“Certainly. It is a secret, I believe—father warned me not to speak of it unless you did; but everybody was paid by your father after a time. That did not look as though he were dishonest. His partner took advantage of the bankruptcy courts.”
“Of—of course your father has no idea who was guilty?” whispered Helen, anxiously.
“None at all,” replied Miss Van Ramsden. “It was a mystery then and remains so to this day. That bookkeeper was a peculiar man, but had a good record; and it seems that he left the city before the checks were cashed. Or, so the evidence seemed to prove.