THE news which so electrified all Shannondale was slow in reaching Mrs. Crawford, but it did reach her at last, crushing and overwhelming her with a sense of shame and anguish, until as the day wore on, Grace Atherton, and Mrs. St. Claire, and Nina, and many others, came to reassure her, and to say that it was all a mistake, which would soon be cleared up.
Thus comforted and consoled, she tried to be calm, and wait patiently for the train. But there was a great pity for her boy in her heart, as she sat by Jerrie's bedside and watched her in all her varying moods, now perfectly quiet, while her wide-open eyes stared up at the ceiling as if she were seeing something there, now talking of Peterkin, and the Tramp House, and the table, and the blow, and again of the bag, which she said was lost, and which her grandmother must find.
Thinking she meant the carpet-bag, Mrs. Crawford brought that to her; but she tossed it aside impatiently, saying:
"No, no; the other one, which tells it all. Where is it! I must have lost it. Find it, find it. To be so near, and yet, so far. What did it say? Why can't I think? Am I like Mr. Arthur—crazy, like him?"
Mrs. Crawford thought her crazier than Arthur, and waited still more impatiently for Harold, until she heard his step outside, and knew that he had come.
"Harold!"
"Grandma!" was all they said for a moment, while the poor old lady was sobbing on his neck, and then he comforted her as best he could, telling her that it was all over now—that no one but Peterkin had accused him—that every body was ready to defend him, and that after a little he could explain everything.
"And now I must see Jerrie," he continued, starting for the stairs, and glad that his grandmother did not attempt to follow him.
Jerrie had heard his voice, and had raised herself in bed, and as he came in, met him with the question:
"Have you brought them? Has any one seen them?"