“Then why isn’t it there?” asked Hannah triumphantly; “it couldn’t have run away by itself, I suppose.”
“Why do you accuse Nancy of taking it, Hannah?” asked Mrs. Winton.
“Because it isn’t the first thing that has disappeared since she came here. My silver thimble is missing too. I had it yesterday when I was sitting in the porch sewing.”
“But it is very wrong to accuse anybody unless you have proof of his guilt,” said Mrs. Winton.
“Oh, do please believe me, ma’am!” said Nancy, with the tears running down her cheeks and a most distressed look in her face. “How could I be so mean as to steal from people who have been so kind to me,—and from dear little Posy too! Oh, do please believe me!”
“I will believe you, Nancy,” said Mrs. Winton kindly. “Now stop crying, and remember that we will be your friends as long as you are a good little girl. Run out to play, children, and perhaps you will find the necklace.”
So Nancy dried her tears and was tenderly conducted out of doors by Tom and Posy on either side; and they proved such good comforters that in a short time she was laughing heartily.
“Now, Hannah,” said Mrs. Winton, when the children were gone, “I want you to give up the thought that Nancy is a thief. She is a poor, neglected child, and I should think that all your sympathies would go out towards her.”
“I don’t believe in her honesty,” replied Hannah, unmoved. “I made up my mind she was a thief the first time I sot eyes on her.”
“First impressions are not to be trusted,” said Mrs. Winton. “I shall believe the child honest until I have reason to doubt her, and certainly there has been nothing to prove her guilt yet.”