"And in the meantime I remain under suspicion?"
Blue Bonnet looked as if she had been struck a blow. It was the first time in her life that her word had ever been doubted in the slightest particular. She had a great reverence for the truth. It was an inheritance. "Straight and true like an Ashe, Honey"—the words rang in her ears now—would always—like an armor they wrapped themselves about her—protected her....
"We have many of us rested under an injustice, Miss Ashe, but right always triumphs. I am old fashioned enough to believe that. The matter will be sifted to the bottom."
Blue Bonnet went up to her room feeling that a cloud had settled upon her—a cloud black and ominous.
Joy Cross sat in her accustomed seat by the window, reading. She did not glance up as Blue Bonnet entered, but, if anything, turned her face farther away.
Blue Bonnet sat down listlessly. Her first thought was to question Joy in regard to the book, but she hated to mention it; to have any one know that she was mixed up in such an unsavory affair. Who could have done such a thing—such a contemptible, cowardly thing? Who, in school, disliked her enough to put her in such a position? How had it happened?
Round and round in a groove went her thoughts, bringing no solution. She got up after a while, and opening her top bureau drawer, took out a small box safely guarded in one corner. From the box she drew a miniature which she gazed at long and tenderly.
Joy Cross put away her book and left the room.
Blue Bonnet took the miniature to the light. Her throat ached with the sobs that she had suppressed in Joy's presence. Now the torrent broke.
"Oh, Mother, Mother!" she cried, sinking into a chair, "why can't I have you to tell me what to do?—why did you have to leave me when I needed you so?—other girls have mothers—fathers, too—"