“I thought you’d be a bit kinder,” moaned Ann-Car’line, and two big tears rolled down her cheeks. “I—I—I had summat as I didn’t want the folks at home to see—I haven’t got nothin’ what locks—so I made a little hole at the bottom of the field yon—and I buried it. An’—an’—somebody’s been an’ stole it away, an’ put a stone in its place.”
“That’s a queer tale,” said Timothy. “Very near as queer a tale as the one you did tell I about bein’ axed to be a fairy.”
“Oh, but it’s true—it’s really true,” cried Ann-Car’line earnestly. “And the worst of it is the thing—what I hid—wasn’t mine.”
Timothy deliberately set down his lantern, and folded his arms on the top of the hurdle.
“You’ll have to come out wi’ the whole truth, my girl,” said he; “what was the thing ye hid?”
“’Twas a watch,” gasped the girl; “a gold watch.”
Timothy whistled under his breath. “And ’twasn’t yours, ye say?” he remarked after a pause. “Ye stole it then, did ye? Ye’ll be put in prison so sure as I be a-lookin’ at ye.”
“Stole it!” ejaculated Ann-Car’line with a little scream. “I did no such thing. ’Twas give me, but I didn’t want to take it an’ I said I’d give it back—and now I can’t,” she added with a burst of woe.
“Now look ye here, maidie,” cried Timothy, in a voice that had suddenly grown extremely wrathful, “this ’ere tale’s worse nor what I looked for. Who gave ye that watch? Come, make a clean breast on’t—else I’ll not lift a finger to help ye. It’ll have to come out first or last, and there’s less shame in telling me—what’s your friend—”
“I’m not ashamed,” interrupted Ann-Car’line, throwing back her head. “I have not done wrong. ’Twas a gentleman give me the watch, there!”