"It is a queer case," commented Ruth. "I don't know what to do to help you. Perhaps it would be a good thing to speak to Mr. Pertell about it. Often when children have been kidnapped, you know, their pictures are flashed on the screen in hundreds of cities, and sometimes persons in the audiences recognize them. That might be done with you, Estelle."
"No, I wouldn't dream of doing that. Perhaps something may turn up some day that will tell me who I really am. And perhaps I shall be sorry for having learned."
"No, you will not!" declared Alice. "You come of good people—one can easily tell that."
"Thank you, dear. And now I have inflicted enough of my troubles on you. Let's talk about something pleasant."
"You haven't burdened us with your troubles, Estelle dear," insisted Ruth. "It is a strange story, and we are interested in the outcome."
"Indeed we are," said Alice. "We want very much to help you."
"That's good of you. But I don't see what you can do. I'm just a sort of Topsy, and Topsy I'll remain. Now please don't say anything about what I have told you to any one—not even to your father—unless I give you permission. I don't want to be the object of curiosity, as well as of suspicion."
"Suspicion!" cried Alice.
"Yes, about Miss Dixon's ring."
"Oh! no one in the world believes you took that—not even Miss Dixon herself. I believe she has found the old paste diamond, and is too mean to admit it!" cried impulsive Alice.