"But how funny to send it, instead of bringing it himself—your husband, I mean."
Too late Helen saw her mistake. In a panic, now, lest unpleasant truths be discovered, she assumed an especially light, cheerful manner.
"Oh, no, I don't think it was funny a bit. He—he wanted it a surprise, I guess. And he wrote—a letter, you know. A lovely letter, all about what a good time Baby and I could have with the money."
The suspicion in Mrs. Cobb's eyes became swift conviction. An angry red stained her cheeks—but it was not anger at Helen. That was clearly to be seen.
"Look a-here, Mis' Denby," she began resolutely, "I'm a plain woman, and I always speak right out. And I'm your friend, too, and I ain't goin' ter stand by and see you made a fool of, and not try ter lift a hand ter help. There's somethin' wrong here. If you don't know it, it's time you did. If you do know it, and are tryin' ter keep it from me, you might just as well stop right now, and turn 'round and tell me all about it. As I said before, I'm your friend, and—if it's what I think it is—you'll need a friend, you poor little thing! Now, what is it?"
Helen shook her head feebly. Her face went from white to red, and back again to white. Still determined to keep her secret if possible, she made a brave attempt to regain her old airiness of manner.
"Why, Mrs. Cobb, it's nothing—nothing at all!"
Mrs. Cobb exploded into voluble wrath.
"Nothin', is it?—when a man goes kitin' off ter Alaska, and sendin' his wife ten thousand dollars ter go somewheres else in the opposite direction! Maybe you think I don't know what that means. But I do! And he's tryin' ter play a mean, snivelin' trick on ye, and I ain't goin' ter stand for it. I never did like him, with all his fine, lordly airs, a-thinkin' himself better than anybody else what walked the earth. But if I can help it, I ain't goin' ter see you cheated out of your just deserts."
"Mrs. Cobb!" expostulated the dismayed, dumfounded wife; but Mrs. Cobb had yet more to say.