“I LIKE YOU JUST THE SAME! I LIKE YOU JUST THE SAME!”
“No,” said Jim boldly, “I havn’t seen it since. I hope it isn’t lost.” Then he stopped, and his face blushed crimson. There was something in Mrs. Martin’s eyes, as well as in her voice, that reminded him of his trouble about the silver-spoon.
“Oh! you don’t think”—he cried out.
But he could say no more—Mrs. Martin had him in her arms the next moment.
“No, I don’t think,” she said, “I don’t, my boy! not for the world I wouldn’t! only I can’t find it, and—and—”
“Let me look for it,” said Jim.
They looked again together, but with no success. That night there were two heavy hearts in the quiet little house, and the next morning there were two pair of red eyes at the breakfast table.
“You must not grieve so, Jim,” said Mrs. Martin. “I hope it will all come out right; we must try to bear it well, and go to work as if nothing had happened.”
But she could not follow her own advice, and the washing remained undone.