Mr. Howell came for it on the Thursday of that week.
I was on my knees scrubbing the parlor floor, when he rang the bell. I let him in, and it seemed to me that he looked tired and pale.
"Well, Mrs. Pitman," he said, smiling, "what did you find in the cellar when the water went down?"
"I'm glad to say that I didn't find what I feared, Mr. Howell."
"Not even the onyx clock?"
"Not even the clock," I replied. "And I feel as if I'd lost a friend. A clock is a lot of company."
"Do you know what I think?" he said, looking at me closely. "I think you put that clock away yourself, in the excitement, and have forgotten all about it."
"Nonsense."
"Think hard." He was very much in earnest. "You knew the water was rising and the Ladleys would have to be moved up to the second floor front, where the clock stood. You went in there and looked around to see if the room was ready, and you saw the clock. And knowing that the Ladleys quarreled now and then, and were apt to throw things—"
"Nothing but a soap-dish, and that only once."