"You," said Bill, while Daisy sank down on the arbour seat, and seemed to crumple up in abject fear of what was about to happen.
"Now, Miss Fairfield," Bill began, "there's a little matter I want cleared up. It's the note you wrote to Mr. Martin saying you didn't wish to be Spirit of the Sea."
Daisy cast one piteous, despairing glance at Patty, and then covered her face in her hands.
At first, Patty's blue eyes flashed with a righteous indignation, to think how Daisy had abused her kindness in writing that note at dictation. Then a great wave of compassion swept through her heart. The deed was so foreign to her own nature that she felt deep pity for one who was capable of such a thing. And Daisy's evident misery roused her sympathy. She didn't stop to think that probably Daisy's regret was at being found out and not for the deed itself, but Patty's forgiveness was full and free, even before it was asked. In her unbounded generosity of heart, she resolved to shield Daisy from Farnsworth's wrath.
"What about the note?" she asked, simply.
"Did you write it?"
"I did."
"Did any one force or persuade you to write it?"
"I did it willingly, and without compulsion."
"Did Daisy know you wrote it?"