“That is all I have to say,” he said, “but I wanted to let you know what you ought to do. Don't mind if there is a lot of stuff published in the TIMES. You have to expect that, and Jones will probably drag your name into it, in connection with the Colonel and Skinner, but you are perfectly innocent and they can do nothing to you.”
He went out, and Miss Sally remained in a daze, looking at the door by which he had gone. She was still looking at it helplessly when Mrs. Tarbro-Smith came in with a swish of skirts and put her arm gently about her.
“DO you think you did what your heart told you to do, dear?” asked the lady from New York, kissing Miss Sally on the brow. “He was SO downcast. I really pitied him, poor man.”
Miss Sally threw her arms around Mrs. Smith's waist and hit her face in the lacy softness of her gown, and wept. The authoress smoothed the brown hair and waited patiently for the tears to cease.
“Did you see Mr. Toole?” she asked brightly, to ease Miss Sally's weeping and to turn her thought to other things. “He wanted to see you about those fire-extinguishers. But I don't trust him. I think he has some plan or other that is selfish. I think he had been drinking.”
Miss Sally's tears ceased, and she sat up, straight and severe.
“Fire-extinguishers?” she asked quickly.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Smith; “he seemed to think Skinner or the Colonel or someone would want you to take them back. And return the money, I suppose.”
“The money?” echoed Miss Sally slowly. She blushed as she saw that she had misunderstood the attorney, thinking he had dared to advise in her love matters, and then she frowned. “The money?” she repeated. “But I gave that money to pa. Pa won't ever give that money back, never! I don't know where on earth I'd ever get sixty dollars.”
As she spoke she heard someone on the walk, and then the heavy feet of the Colonel climbing the porch steps. She heard him ask Susan if Miss Sally was inside, and heard the girl answer that she was, and she held Mrs. Smith's hand tighter.