“Then,” went on the woman, “when Nancy Ford was gone I saw the men come toward me! I screamed, put my hand upon the cash I was counting–and then–they hit me!”
“Oh!” gasped Cora, involuntarily. “They robbed you!”
“Yes, they robbed me!” repeated the woman. “Not only of my employer’s money, but of my reputation, for the story I told afterward was not believed!”
“How dreadful!” exclaimed Bess, clasping her hands.
The boys, less demonstrative, did not interrupt with a single syllable. But they were impressed, nevertheless.
“Yes, I was discharged! I was shocked into a nervous collapse, and ever since I have been searching for Nancy Ford. Why did she run before any harm was done? Why did she flee at the sight of the men, who showed no indication of being robbers? Why did Nancy Ford not return to clear my name? I went to the hospital and was there for months. Oh, such terrible months! I was threatened with brain fever, from that mental searching for Nancy, but she never returned!”
Belle was stirred to sympathy by the recital, and, while no one saw her, brushed by the woman’s chair and slid into the gaping pocket of her cape her own little silver purse.
“My name is Margaret Raymond–Mrs. Raymond. I am a widow,” went on the woman finally, “and I am not ashamed or afraid now to have the world know who I am. I loved Nancy: she was almost like a daughter to me, and I would have trusted her with anything. But now–she has deserted me! And no one else can ever clear my name!”
“No one else?” Cora repeated.
“Some of the firm members believed my story, but it was vague and one could scarcely blame them for doubting it,” said Mrs. Raymond.