“Oh, no, no! it was not so dreadful. She found it long ago, but did not think it valid, and only kept it out of sight because she thought it would make me unhappy.”
“It is a pity she did not go a step further,” observed Bobus. “Why did she produce it now?”
“I found it. Boys, you must know the whole truth, and consider how best to screen your sister. Remember she was very young, and fancied a thing on a common sheet of paper, and shut up in an unfastened table drawer could not be of force, and that she was doing no harm.” Then she told of her loss and recovery of what she called some medical memoranda of their father, which she knew Janet wanted, concluding—“It will surely be enough to say I found it in his old bureau.”
“That will hardly go down with Wakefield,” said Bobus; “but as I see he stands here as trustee for that wretched child, as well as being yours, there is no fear but that he will be conformable. Shall I take it up and show it to him at once, so that if by any happy chance this should turn out waste paper, no one may get on the scent?”
“Your uncle! I was so amazed and stupefied yesterday that I don’t know whether I told him, and if I did, I don’t think he believed me.”
“Here he comes,” said Barbara, as the wheels of his dog-cart were heard below the window.
“Ask him to come up. It will be a terrible blow to him. This place has been as much to him as to any of us, if not more.”
“Mother, how brave you are!” cried Jock.
“I have known it longer than you have, my dear. Besides, the mere loss is nothing compared with that which led to it. The worst of it is the overthrow of all your prospects, my dear fellow.”
“Oh,” said Jock, brightly, “it only means that we have something and somebody to work for now;” and he threw his arms round her waist and kissed her.