"Please tell us how Lottie is," said Ann earnestly.
"She's very ill, miss, there's no doubt of that, but Dr. Elizabeth says there's no reason why she shouldn't pull through if she's kept quiet. She's terribly bruised one side—the side on which she fell, you know she fell off the round-about—and two of her ribs are broken, and she's had a nasty blow on the head—that's what Dr. Elizabeth thinks most seriously of."
"Is she asleep now?" asked Violet.
"No, miss, but she's lying quiet—very different from what she was a few hours ago. She doesn't know you're here, I believe if she did she'd want to see you, Miss Ann, for in the night she kept on talking about you, begging me to send for you because there was something she wanted to tell you about before she died. She talked a lot of nonsense, but I could catch a grain of sense in it now and again. She said that you'd offered to be her friend—oh, miss, was that true? Yes, Then, perhaps the rest was true, too, but no, no, I can't believe it! Maybe you'll know. She kept on repeating that she was a thief—that she had stolen a purse—oh, Miss Ann, there isn't any truth in that, is there?"
"I—I don't know," faltered Ann, looking anxiously at Violet, who, with flushed cheeks and eyes gleaming with excitement, was listening with breathless interest; "I don't know how she could have done it, but—oh, Vi, don't you remember Lottie called at our house that evening Agnes lost her purse? Why, she was in the hall when Agnes left!"
"I remember! I thought of that just now!"
Violet answered, trying to speak quietly, but failing in the attempt; her voice sounded hoarse and unnatural.
"Did someone lose a purse then, really?" Mrs. Medland asked, glancing from one to the other of the girls, a piteous look on her startled face.
"Yes, a school-fellow of ours did," replied Ann.
"Was it a tortoise-shell purse, miss, with a golden clasp?" Mrs. Medland interrogated, her lips quivering as she put the question.