"Anyway, I owe you an apology, Miss Thompson," the detective went on, and there was a little catch in his voice as he met Betty's grave, beautiful eyes. "Things certainly did look black against you, but—all I can say is, I'm sorry, Miss, I'm sorry."
"It's all right, old man," said Bob.
Whereupon the Bishop of Bunchester, clearing his throat ponderously, addressed these comforting words to Hester Storm: "My dear young friend, I am inexpressively touched by this story of your struggles and temptations and your splendid moral victory. It is a most meritorious case and one that the Society of Progressive Mothers will take up with enthusiasm. As for the outcome of this affair, speaking for the Progressive Mothers' Society and for myself, as bishop of this diocese, I can assure you that there will be no unpleasant consequences, so far as you are concerned. The money has been returned. You have truly repented of your sin and you have given an illustration of spiritual regeneration that will long be treasured in the annals of the Progressive Mothers' Society.
"And now, my dear Miss Thompson, how shall I express my great joy——" The bishop turned to Betty, and was about to launch forth into another sounding period when Hiram Baxter interrupted him.
"Excuse me, Bish, fer breakin' in on yer speech, but—I've had a bad day in town, and—if you don't mind takin' the detective into the next room and finishin' up the details of this purse business with him, why——"
Baxter leaned back in his chair with signs of physical distress—"ye see, I'm just about all in."
"Why, certainly, my dear friend. Let us come in here." And, motioning to Grimes and Hester, he led the way into the conservatory and carefully closed the door behind him.
"Father! Is anything wrong?" asked Bob in concern.
"Guardy, you're ill?"
With anxious faces the young lovers stood beside the old man, who smiled at them wearily.