While the others were outside, the widow inspected her house more thoroughly. She said a dozen silver spoons were missing and likewise an old gold watch and some old-fashioned gold and pearl jewelry. She placed her total loss at nearly five hundred dollars.
Dave had to tell his story in detail, to which all of the others but Mike Marcy listened with interest. The widow blamed the Irish-American farmer for not having come to the house sooner, declaring that had he done so the robbers would have been caught red-handed; and quite a war of words followed.
"What am I to do, now my money is gone?" she wailed. "I cannot pay that carpenter's bill and it must be paid by the end of this month."
"You'll have to notify the constable, or the sheriff," answered Joel Burr.
"What good will that do? They haven't done anything for Lapham, nor for Jerry Logan who was robbed in Oakdale."
"Well, I don't know what you can do, widder."
Mrs. Fairchild declared, when she had settled down a little, that the man who had spoken to her about the sick baby had had a hoarse voice, and all were satisfied that that individual was one of those Dave had heard talk near the smokehouse. But she had not seen his face, so she could not give any description of him excepting to say that he was rather tall.
It was now nearly eleven o'clock, and as Dave had had no supper he was hungry. His tramping around had made him tired, and he said if he was not wanted any more he would go home.
"Go as far as I am concerned," said Mike Marcy. "But don't lay the blame of this robbery on me. Remember, ye had no right to be trespassin' on my property."
"I simply told the truth," said Dave; and a little later he withdrew and hurried forth into the night in the direction of Oak Hall.