"Amy—dear. I am only going to use a little. If you love me, give me the box."
Useless! Aunt Amy still smiled. She put the box behind her. With her other hand she felt for the door knob.
"Amy, give it to me! What have I ever done to you?"
"You stole my ring." In exactly the same tone she might have said, "You are a murderess."
The ring! Mary had forgotten the ring. Wait, perhaps it was not hopeless even yet. Amy placed an absurd value on that ring—and she, Mary, had the gem in her possession. She did not know that Esther had found and restored it. To her it was still in the box at the bottom of her drawer. A dazzling plan flashed through her excited brain. She would bribe Amy with the ring. The thought nerved her.
"Do you really want your ring back?" she asked sweetly.
Aunt Amy paused with her hands on the door knob.
"I have it back."
"Oh, no. You haven't. It is in a box in my drawer."
"It is not. Esther gave it to me!" But there was a spark of fear in Amy's eyes. Contradiction so easily confused her. Had Esther given her the ring? She felt oddly uncertain.