“When did she miss this money?”
“This morning. It was there yesterday. Aunt Mattie counted it right after you girls went home. You can hear her say the figures out loud and sort of chuckle to herself. But today she just let out a scream. It was horrible! I thought she was dying.”
“Maybe it was taken last night,” said Mary Louise. “Did you hear any of those queer noises—I mean the kind you heard before, when you thought somebody searched that old trunk in the attic?”
“No, I didn’t. That’s the worst part. Nobody else heard anything, either, all night long, and no door locks were broken. Of course, a burglar might have entered over the front porch roof, through Aunt Mattie’s window. But she’s a light sleeper, and she says she never heard a sound.”
“So of course she claims you stole it!”
Elsie nodded and started to cry again.
“But I didn’t! I give you my word I didn’t!”
“Of course you didn’t, Elsie. We believe you.”
“Aunt Mattie did everything but torture me to get a confession out of me. She said if I didn’t own up to it and give it back she’d send me to a reform school, and I’d be branded as a criminal for the rest of my life.”
“She couldn’t do that!” exclaimed Mary Louise furiously. “If she has no proof ... I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Elsie! I’ll put my father on the case when he comes home! He’s a detective on the police force, and he’s just wonderful. He’ll find the real thief.”