“I am very glad to believe you,” she said, with simple directness.
I stammered a “Thank you” and was silent. I dared not trust myself to speak at the moment. Somehow the sincerity of her words moved me far more than their trifling import warranted. She had declared her belief that I was not a liar, that was all; and yet I stood there fighting down all sorts of ridiculous emotions. The situation was decidedly strained, but, as usual, she saved it.
“It seems to me,” she said, with the twinkle which I had learned to recognize as a forerunner of mischief on her part, “that you are inclined to make mountains out of mole-hills, Mr. Paine. Was there any need to be quite so fiercely tragic? And, besides, I think that even now you have not told the whole truth.”
“The whole truth? Why, Miss Colton, I have just explained that—”
“Oh, not that truth! Your mysterious 'reasons' are not my affair. And I have told you that I was willing to take those on trust. But you have not been quite truthful in another particular. You intimated that you were an idler. I have been given to understand that you are far from being an idler just now.”
I was relieved. “Oh, I see!” I exclaimed. “You mean—some one has told you of my employment at the bank.”
“A number of persons have told me. Surely you did not expect to keep THAT a secret—in Denboro?”
“Well, scarcely,” I admitted, with a laugh. “That was known almost before I was sure of it myself. You should have seen Eldredge's face when I announced my intention. And Lute—Mrs. Rogers' husband—hasn't completely recovered yet. The sight of me, actually trying to earn a living, was too much for him. You see what a miracle worker you are, Miss Colton.”
“Did you really accept the position simply because of what I said to you?”
“Yes. The chance had been offered me before, but it was your frankness that shocked me into taking it.”