“I am afraid so, Sally. Clifford himself thinks there is no hope.”
For a time Sally sat very still, then she spoke softly:
“Peggy!”
“Yes, Sally.”
“Did thee tell Clifford about me? How I did not betray him to Sheriff Will?”
“I tried to, but he would not listen. Harriet took him to task for it, Sally. She told him that if thee said thee did not betray him, thee didn’t.” And Peggy related all that had passed regarding the matter.
“Then he will die believing that I was a false friend to thee, and that I betrayed him who was a guest of my hospitality,” remarked the girl mournfully. “Oh, ’tis bitter to be misjudged! ’Tis bitter!” And to Peggy’s astonishment she burst into tears.
“Why, Sally! I did not know thee cared so much,” cried Peggy.
“I—I don’t,” flashed Sally. “At least, not much. ’Tis only—only that I do not like to be misjudged. And I’ve never been given so much as a chance to defend myself. Oh, dear!” dabbing her eyes viciously with her kerchief as she spoke, “I don’t suppose they can help it, but of all stubborn, unreasonable creatures on this earth I do think Englishmen are the worst! I’d just like one chance to tell Clifford Owen so.”