It was a sort of comfort to Hannah and Priscilla when James returned, as he did that morning. James had always seemed to like Polly and he would surely grieve to hear she had gone. The good nurse told him everything that had happened, as far as she knew it, with tears in her voice as well as in her eyes, but when she came to the part where the broken bank was made to prove that Polly had used her money to pay her fare to the city, he sprang up with a shout and Hannah’s eyes grew dry in a twinkling.
“Why, bless your heart,” the butler exclaimed, “I can tell you all about that bank. I smashed it myself—the night of the kirmess. It was this way:——”
And then out came the story of the little “chamois bag.”
“And, by the way,” James concluded, “that bag is somewhere down the ravine this minute, and I’m going to find it. I was on the way to, when Miss Priscilla fell and then, in all the hurry and worry, I clean forgot about it. But the five dollars in it belongs to Polly—fair and square—and I’m going to get it for her, or my name’s not James Craig.”
“But James,” interposed Hannah, “even if Polly didn’t take the money to pay her fare, the fact remains that she’s gone.”
“Why, yes, true enough,” admitted James, “but if Mrs. Duer told Polly not to go out of the gates unless Theresa gave her leave, you may be pretty certain Polly didn’t do it. The kind of character a person has stands for something, as I look at it, and Polly has proved she’s the right sort, clear through. You mark my words, Hannah, there’s a screw loose somewhere, but it ain’t with Polly.”
SHE RUSHED WILDLY FORWARD
So James strode off to the ravine to search for the little “chamois bag,” and Hannah hastened back to Mrs. Duer to repeat to her what the butler had just been saying. His cheery air and encouraging words seemed to lift a weight from the heart of every one in the house except Theresa. She was plunged in the deepest gloom, for she seemed to see possibilities of her deception being discovered and she made up her mind that if the truth of the telegram were brought to light she would leave the house of her own accord rather than risk the disgrace of being discharged by Mrs. Duer. She had not had an easy moment since she saw the train sweep by that was carrying Polly into the sweltering city on her hopeless errand. She had been haunted by the vision of her trusting, sorrowful eyes as they had looked when she, Theresa, had told her of the telegram and Polly had thought it contained bad news for her. The memory seemed to stab her every time she thought of the child, and, somehow, she thought of the child continually. She did not really believe Polly would come back. The chances were too many against her. She had no money, no friends in the city save the sister whom it was improbable she would find and the heat in town was reported to be prostrating. To her surprise Theresa found herself worrying about the little girl’s danger and her heart softened in spite of herself.