And at that precise moment Sally was saying to Dan:
"Did you ever see a man so put out over anything as John Crawford was over not findin' that chart? If he'd lost his watch or his purse, he couldn't have put himself to more pains to find it. There never was a more accommodatin' neighbor than Mary, and John's just like her. You don't often see a couple as well matched. Generally, if one's accommodatin' and neighborly, the other's stingy and mean. But Mary wasn't a bit more anxious to find that chart for me than John was."
That night after supper John seated himself on the front porch. The warm spring air was sweet with the perfume of May bloom, and from every pond there was a chorus of joy over the passing of winter. He heard the voices of his children and his wife talking together as Mary washed the dishes, Lucy Ellen wiped them, and little John placed them on the table. Home, wife, children, and the spring of the year! The heart of the man was glad and he smiled at the thought of the deed he had done that afternoon.
"John," said Mary, coming out on the porch with the dish towel over her arm, "hadn't you better be looking for that chart? You know you promised Sally, and I don't want her to be disappointed again."
The light from one of the front windows shone full on John's face, and something about his eyes and mouth gave Mary a sudden revelation.
"John," she said severely, "do you know where that chart is?"
John returned her gaze with unflinching eyes. "Mary," he said slowly and deliberately, "I do not know where that chart is."
Another lie? Oh, no! When a thing is dust and ashes, who knows where it is?
But the answer did not satisfy Mary. She continued to look at him as a mother might look at a naughty child.
"John," she said, "did you—I believe—yes, I know you did. Oh, John! How could you? What made you do it?"