“You don’t say so,” observed Mrs. Fishberry, sarcastically. “Well, I happen to know she did lie, and we’ve got proof of it. Why do you suppose she and her aunt were so nice to you? Because they thought you were beautiful, or interesting, or rich?”
“No, I guess not,” admitted Helen, choking over the words. “I guess I was a sight in those dreadful clothes—” She turned to her companion accusingly. “If you took care of me, why didn’t you dress me better?”
“Because we’re poor. I had to sacrifice everything to provide food for you.”
“But your clothes are pretty nice,” observed the girl, shrewdly.
“Well, what of it?” snapped the other. “You haven’t answered my question yet. Why did the Carltons make so much of you, if it wasn’t to stop your mouth? They thought that if they entertained you for a week in their house, afterwards, if your memory came back, you wouldn’t sue them.”
“What do you mean by ‘sue them?’” asked Helen, with that amazing ignorance that she showed every once in a while regarding ordinary words. “There was a girl in Linda’s crowd named Sue Emery——”
“You get dumber by the minute!” returned Mrs. Fishberry. “We’re going to make Miss Linda Carlton pay fifty thousand dollars damages because she smashed into you with her plane. Now, do you get that?”
“You wouldn’t!” cried Helen, in horror. “You just couldn’t!”
“Sure we could. The law is on our side.” The woman’s manner suddenly changed, and she remembered to play the part of the fond aunt. “Now don’t you worry, Helen,” she added. “It’s for you we’re doing it. We’ll spend the money on you. First, for a good doctor—a specialist to restore your memory—and then for education and pretty clothes. You’ll be a fine lady some day, if you don’t act silly about Linda Carlton.”
“But I love her, and I don’t believe anything against her.”