A light at last broke over Mrs. Myrtle's face.
"Well, well," she exclaimed; "I begin to see what you're driving at. Won't I have a crow to pick with Patty Martin for this. No, no, miss, she pawned no ring to me; but she gave me a diamond ring to keep for her early one morning about three weeks ago. 'And keep it safe until I ask for it, Martha Myrtle,' said she; and safe I will keep it until then, Miss Annie Forest."
"But it's my ring," said Annie in great distress. "You'll give it back to me now when I ask for it?"
"I'll give it back to Patty Martin, miss, and to no one else."
"Oh, but really, really, don't you understand? It's my ring."
"I've only your word for that, miss. It was given to me by Mrs. Martin."
"But I know Patty Martin would let you give it back to me. Why, she gave me your address and told me to go to you; and I thought, of course, you were a pawnbroker."
"Won't I have a crow to pluck with her for this?" exclaimed Mrs. Myrtle. "Pawnbroker, indeed! Why my poor mother who's dead would rise up from her grave if she thought I was called by such a name. No, miss, I'm sorry not to oblige, but Mrs. Martin gave me the ring to keep for her, and she must come herself to fetch it away, for to no one else will I give it."
Some farmers' wives, looking flourishing and handsome and full of purpose, now entered the shop. Mrs. Myrtle devoted all her energies to serving them, and poor Annie with sinking heart had to go away.