“So I slipped into the dinin’ room and there was little Dottie. I kept the book behind me and didn’t know what to do with it. But Dottie ran out of the room and I plumped it into that closet and shut the door quick,” finished Barnabetta.
“And is that all?” Ruth said, very much disappointed.
“I—I never saw the book again till just now.”
“Oh!” began Agnes, when the circus girl interrupted her, jerkily.
“I—I tried to see it. I was goin’ to steal the money—or, some of it, anyway. I know you’ll think me awful. But—but we were so hard up, and all—just the same, I couldn’t get into the closet again.
“I staid awake Saturday night, and when I thought everybody was abed and the house was still, I came down here in this boy’s suit—”
“Oh!” cried Agnes again—and this time in a much relieved tone. But Barnabetta did not notice.
“Your aunt came down with her candle for those peppermints before I could get at the book.”
“But what did you do then?” asked the eager and curious Agnes.
“I was just about crazy,” admitted the circus girl. “I thought I’d done that sin of stealin’ the book and it had done us no good. I wanted to run away right then and there—I’d have left poor Pop behind.