“I wish to say a word!” said Mrs. Cameron. She came forward, and stood looking very flushed and angry before the assembled group. “I wish to say that I am sure some of you in your malice deprived me of my dog. I believe David Dalrymple to be innocent, but as to the rest of you, I may as well say that I do not believe you, whatever you may tell me.”
“Well, after that!” exclaimed all the children.
“I suppose, Helen, after that we may go away?” said Firefly, who was looking very pale.
“No, Miss!” said Aunt Maria, “you must stay. Your sister Helen does not wish me to do anything to disturb your father, but I assure you, children, there are limits even to my patience, and I intend to visit him this morning and tell him the whole story, unless before you leave the room you tell me the truth.”
Firefly’s sallow little face grew whiter and whiter. She glanced imploringly at David, who looked boldly and unconcernedly back at her; then, throwing back his head, he marched up to Mrs. Cameron’s side.
“You believe that I am innocent, don’t you?” he said.
“Certainly, my dear boy. I have said so.”
“In that case, perhaps you would not mind my going out a little way on the moor and having a good look round for the dog, he may have wandered there, you know, and broken his leg or something.” Mrs. Cameron shuddered. “In any case,” continued David, with a certain air of modest assurance, which became him very much, “it seems a pity that I should waste time here.”
“Certainly; go, my dear lad,” answered Mrs. Cameron. “Bring my little innocent suffering treasure back with you, and I will give you half a crown.”
David instantly left the room, unheeding a short, sharp cry which issued from Firefly’s lips as he passed her.