At length he announced: (1) That the thimble was not among the rocks; (2) That it was not lost at all.
“But it is, it is, you silly old man,” cried Tabitha excitedly. “I have hunted everywhere, and I cried about it because I haven’t got another, and can’t buy one here, and the needle hurts my finger.”
Menzi contemplated her gravely as though he were looking her through and through.
“It is not lost, Little Flower. I see it; you have it now. Put your hand into the pocket of your dress. What do you find there?”
“Nothing,” said Tabitha. “That is, nothing except a hole.”
“Feel at the bottom of your dress, there on the right. No, a little more to the front. What do you feel there?”
“Something hard,” said Tabitha.
“Take this knife and cut the lining of your dress where you feel the hard thing. Ah! there is the silver shield which you have been carrying about with you all these days.”
The crowd murmured approval. Dorcas exclaimed: “Well, I never!” and Thomas looked first puzzled, then angry, then suspicious.
“Does the Teacher think that the Floweret and the old doctor have made a plot together?” asked Menzi. “Can a sweet Flower make plots and tell lies like the old doctor? Well, well, it is nothing. Now let us try something better. My bags, my bags.”