"Did he tell you who it wuz?" persisted Mrs. Putnam.
"No," said Lindy. "I did my best to find out, but he wouldn't tell me."
"Good for him," cried Mrs. Putnam. "Then ye don't know?"
"I can put two and two together," replied Lindy.
"But where'd yer git the two and two?" asked Mrs. Putnam.
"Oh, I have surmised for a long time," continued Lindy. "This morning I asked Samanthy where she was going, and she said down to Pettengill's. Then I knew."
"I told her not to tell," said Mrs. Putnam, "the lyin' jade. If I git up off this bed she'll git her walkin' ticket."
"She's ready to go," said Lindy; "she told me this morning that she'd wait until you got a new girl."
Mrs. Putnam closed her eyes and placed both of her hands over her heart. Despite her fortitude the intense pain wrung a groan from her.
Lindy rushed forward and dropped on her knees beside the bed. "Forgive me, Mrs. Putnam," said she, "but you spoke such cruel words to me that I could not help answering you in the same way. I am so sorry. I loved your son with all my heart, and I had no right to speak so to his mother, no matter what she said to me."