"I did want to speak to you very much, David," returned Madge gently; "only you would not let me."
"I know," answered David. "I did hear you call to me. I am not going to lie to you, too. I didn't answer because I didn't dare."
Madge put her hand on David's arm and let him assist her across the field to the tree. Her ankle was really well enough by this time for her to have walked alone, but Madge was not quite ready to walk alone.
David sat down abruptly beside his companion under the shadow of a mammoth tulip tree, staring moodily in front of him.
Madge said nothing. A minute, two minutes of silence passed.
"I don't believe you stole the things, David," she avowed simply.
David's eyes dropped and his face twitched. "How can you fail to believe that I stole them?" he questioned doggedly. "I had them in my possession. You know that."
Madge turned her sweet, honest face full on the boy. "I don't know why I think so, David, but I do. I trust you, and I know you are honest. Do you dare to look me squarely in the face and say: 'Madge Morton, you are mistaken. I did steal Miss Betsey's money and Mr. Preston's silver'? If you will say this, I promise never to betray you and I will never trouble you with questions again. But if you don't, David Brewster, I am going to work until I come to the bottom of this mystery."
David Brewster covered his face with his hands. "I can't say it, Madge," he faltered; "it is too much to ask of me."
The little captain's face broke into happy smiles. "Never mind, David," she comforted him, "I believe I understand."