“I—I’m not responsible for—for what Dave says, Phoebe,” she murmured pleadingly; and then to the other girl’s astonishment she put both hands before her face and began to cry, sobbing in a miserable way that was pitiful to listen to.
At once Phoebe became penitent.
“Forgive me, Hazel,” she said. “I know you are not responsible for Dave,” and then she took her parcel and went away, to give the girl a chance to recover her composure.
“The poor thing is almost a nervous wreck,” she mused, “and Dave’s bitterness toward Toby must have annoyed her more than I suspected. She probably loves Dave devotedly and hates to have him behave so ungenerously. I must ask Lucy when they are to be married. That would relieve her of the confining work in the post office and enable her to recover her health and strength.”
At the drug store opposite she found more of that identical notepaper, and the stationery counter at Markham’s dry goods store had it also. It was a grade so common that everyone kept it and therefore Phoebe was forced to acknowledge that her quest had been a failure.
She was in the dumps next day, wondering if she had done all she could for Toby, when suddenly she remembered the governor’s parting injunction. “If you need me, send me a telegram,” he had said, and this brainy, big-hearted man was just the one she needed in her present emergency. At once she decided to telegraph Cousin John, for she believed that his advice, coupled with her knowledge—which she would frankly confide to him—might yet save the day for Toby Clark.
She would not say anything to Cousin Judith, at present, for if the busy governor found himself obliged to ignore her summons she wanted no one to be disappointed but herself.
Very carefully she worded the telegram, in order to present the case as strongly as possible without committing the secrets she guarded in advance of his coming. She wrote and rewrote it several times, until finally she was satisfied with the following:
“Please come and help me save Toby Clark. I believe I know the truth, but without your assistance Toby will be condemned on false evidence. A woman stole Mrs. Ritchie’s box and there is a conspiracy to shield her from discovery and wickedly sacrifice Toby in her stead. Will tell you all when you arrive. Come quickly, if you can, for time is precious.”
She signed this “Phoebe Daring” and putting on her wraps, carried it down to the station. Dave Hunter was in the little telegraph office, on duty but not busy. He laid down a newspaper as Phoebe entered his room and nodded rather ungraciously.