"'Scared!'" echoed Amy. "Why, I was struck dumb with terror. I thought I had killed her. She lay there all white and funny, and her head was bleeding dreadfully——"
"There's your scalp wound for you," Betty pointed out. "Just a little scratch will make the whole place look like a shambles."
"But what happened to your aunt Sarah, Amy," pursued Mollie interestedly. "We know she didn't die."
"Well, I should say she didn't!" said Amy roundly. "She was as good as ever in ten minutes and laughing at me for being so frightened. But we had to have the rug sent away to get the stain out," she added significantly.
"Huh," said the girls, and once more became thoughtful.
"But suppose you were right, Betty?" said Mollie, after a while. "Suppose our poor musician is torturing himself by thinking he has committed a crime that he hasn't? What could you possibly do about it?"
"I don't just know," Betty admitted truthfully.
"We might ask your father," Grace hazarded, but Betty turned on her, startled.
"That's just the thing I don't want to do!" she said hurriedly. "Dad is just the best and most easy-going father in the world, but he has a terribly stern sense of justice. I'm not sure he wouldn't think we were making ourselves—oh, what do you call it——"
"Accessories after the fact?" suggested Mollie, helpfully.