"Oh, don't call Netty here," exclaimed Annie. "Now, look here, do you see this piece of blue paper?"
"Yes, miss. It's my address, sure and certain."
"Do you know the handwriting?"
"Well, I can't say that I do; it seems a sort of an ordinary hand, don't it, miss?"
"Is Mrs. Martin, who lives at the Grange, a friend of yours?" asked Annie suddenly.
Mrs. Myrtle's face glowed all over with pleased relief.
"Mrs. Martin of the Grange," she exclaimed, "old nurse to Miss Hester and Miss Nan Thornton? I should rather think she is a friend of mine. I have known her ever since we went to school together, and that's many a year ago."
"Oh, how glad I am," exclaimed Annie; "then I am sure, quite sure, you will be kind to me. You will do what I ask for the sake of your friend Mrs. Martin. You won't mind just confiding to me that you are a pawnbroker? I promise most faithfully not to call you aunt if you really dislike it."
"I'm afraid I don't understand you, Miss Forest. I am not a pawnbroker; not one of my belongings would own to such a trade; and if Patty Martin gave you to understand that I am, I'll quarrel with her, late as it is in the day."
"But she pawned a ring to you," said Annie; "an old-fashioned gold ring with one big diamond in the middle. You lent her thirty shillings on it, and the interest is two shillings. That ring is mine. She did pawn a ring to you, did she not?"