"Please let me speak a word," now interrupted a kindly-looking, gray-haired woman sitting near the missionary. "I am Mrs. Minkson's nearest neighbor. We have the ramada in common. I want everyone in this room and in this village to understand, first and foremost, that I had no idea of accusing Francisco when I said what I did. When Mrs. Minkson came to me and told me she had lost her money, she also asked me if I had seen anyone about the place yesterday. I told her no, only Francisco just as I was coming up from my bath. I saw him stoop and pick up a blanket from the ground and throw it on the hammock. He was coming then with water for me. I saw him before he reached the ramada and when he went away. I never meant that Mrs. Minkson should think he had taken her pocket-book."
"May I speak now, Mr. Page?" Francisco asked.
"Yes; tell what took place while you were in the neighborhood," said Mr. Page.
"Yesterday I came here with water about eleven o'clock," began the boy. "There was no one around. I saw Mrs. Plummer coming up from the bath-house. When I went by the hammock a blanket was lying on the ground. So it wouldn't be trampled on by someone nor get wet from my barrel, I picked it up and laid it at the foot of the hammock. I left the water for Mrs. Plummer and went away. That is all I know."
A murmur arose from the crowd, whether of approbation or the contrary could not well be determined. Mr. Page was too much concerned to notice it. Francisco and his uncle also were preoccupied.
"I believe your story, Francisco," said Mr. Page. "I trust that everyone here believes it. I can see nothing in what has been told to warrant the accusation made."
"That isn't all," exclaimed William, from behind his mother's chair. "I know something worse than that, I do."
"Out with it at once, my boy," said Mr. Page. "Let us hear everything you know."
"Well, I didn't tell this before, but I saw Francisco last night with a twenty-dollar gold-piece in his hand, standing in the restaurant."