Jacqueline unclasped her hands on her lap, and clasped them tight again. She was ashamed to feel how they were trembling.
“I went up to the village with Dickie,” she said, “in Mr. Zabriski’s car, and I did some errands for Aunt Martha at Cyrus Hatton’s, and the Post Office, and Miss Crevey’s.”
“Then you came straight home, didn’t you?” Aunt Martha struck in eagerly. “Didn’t you, Jackie?”
The Judge held up his hand, and frowned.
“If you please, Martha! Let her tell the story her own way. Where did you go then, Caroline?”
“I came down Longmeadow Street,” Jacqueline went on cautiously. Whatever he was up to, this Judge, she wasn’t going to give away the secret that she shared with Caroline! “I stopped at the William Gildersleeve place.”
Aunt Martha drew a quick breath. The Judge gave her a warning glance.
“I knocked at the door,” Jacqueline went on, “and I asked to see the little girl.”
“Why?”
“I—I knew her on the train, coming from Chicago,” Jacqueline answered, feeling her way. “She wasn’t there, but the maids were real kind, because I was tired. They asked me in, and they gave me a drink of milk, and I ran an errand to the store, and Sallie gave me ten cents, and she had a crick in her back so I did up both the bathrooms for her, for twenty-five cents, and the money is upstairs in my pocket-book this very minute, Aunt Martha.”