“I broke into your house night before last, and stole some doll clothes. That first day you came to visit Aunt Save, I heard you talking with her about a doll you had as big as a baby, and how you kept her clothes in a little hair-cloth trunk under your window in your room. I watched the house until I found out which room was yours. There was a great tree in front of it. And that night, when everybody had gone to sleep, I climbed in your window and took all the doll clothes. You see some nights were rainy and I was afraid she wouldn’t be warm enough. Please excuse me if you can. I will give them all back.”
Maida was silent for an instant struggling with the situation too complicated for her young mind.
“Of course,” she said at last in a tremulous voice, “stealing is always wrong. I would have given you Lucy’s clothes if you had asked me for them.”
“I didn’t know that you would,” Silva faltered. “And I didn’t dare tell you about Nesta.”
“Of course I saw Lucy’s clothes in the cave,” Maida went on. Her eyes were downcast. “Let’s not speak of it again. Very likely, I would have done the same thing if I had been in your place— Only I suppose I wouldn’t have stolen the baby in the beginning.” She paused and then added honestly, “But perhaps that’s only because I wouldn’t have had the courage. What are you going to do now— I mean when you get well?”
“I don’t know—” Silva answered drearily. “I’ll have to wait until Tyma comes back. Everybody’ll know then. Aunt Save will make me write to father that I have Nesta. He’ll take Nesta away from me and that dreadful woman will have the care of her—”
And now Silva put her head in the hollow of her elbow and sobbed. But they were not the sobs of a child. They were hard and tearless. They shook Silva’s whole body. Maida rushed to her side. She put her arms about Silva; kissed her again and again. “Don’t think of it any more, Silva dear,” she begged. “I know it isn’t as bad as you fancy. Will you let me tell my father about it? My father is a wonderful man. It is almost as though he had magic power—like a genie. He’ll find some way out for you, I’m sure. Will you let me tell him?”
It was some moments before Silva’s whispered “Yes” came from between her racking sobs. But very soon thereafter she sat up. “Here comes somebody,” she whispered. “Please don’t say anything about Nesta.”