The girl looked up, surprised.
“That seemed to me the proper place for it. Whenever I find a bottle of camphor or a jar of cold cream—or anything like that—I always put it in the medicine chest. That’s where such things belong. So I thought it was the right place for the little dropper. Did I do wrong?”
“No, Maggie,” Driscoll said, kindly, “that was all right. Now tell us exactly where you found it.”
“I did tell you. On the floor, just beside Miss Ames’ bed. Near the head of the bed.”
“Well, Miss Ames—I guess it’s up to you. What were you doing with this thing?”
“I didn’t have it at all! I never saw it before!”
“Come, come, that won’t do! How could it get there?”
“I don’t know, but I didn’t put it there.” The old lady trembled pitifully, and looked from one to another for help or guidance.
“Of course, she didn’t!” cried Eunice. “You sha’n’t torment my aunt! Cease questioning her! Talk to me if you choose—and as you choose—but leave Miss Ames alone!”
She faced her inquisitors defiantly, and even Shane quailed a little before her scornful eyes.