"No, you don't, miss," here interposed the grocer himself. "I've had that game played on me too many times already. You'll just fork over five dollars to me this very night or off you go to the lock-up. I'm not going to run any risk of your skipping out of sight between now and Monday, and leaving me in the lurch."
"But I have no money, save the change you gave me," said Edith, wearily. "And do you think I would wish to run away when my mother is too sick to be moved?" she added, indignantly. "I could not take her with me, and I would not leave her. Oh, pray do not force me to go to that dreadful place this fearful night! I promise that I will stay quietly here and that you shall have every penny of your money on Monday morning."
"She certainly will keep her word, gentlemen," Mrs. Allandale here interposed, in a tremulous voice. "Do not force her to leave me, for I am very ill and need her."
"I'm going to have my five dollars now, or to jail she will go," was the gruff response of the obdurate grocer.
"Oh, I cannot go to jail!" wailed the persecuted girl.
Mrs. Allandale, almost unnerved by the sight of her grief, pleaded again with pallid face and quivering lips for her. But the man was relentless. He resolutely turned his back upon the two delicate women and walked from the room, saying as he went:
"Do your duty, Mr. Officer, and I'll be on hand Monday morning, in court, to tell 'em how I've been swindled."
With this he vanished, leaving the policeman no alternative but to enforce the law.
"Oh, mamma! mamma! how can I live and suffer such shame?" cried the despairing girl, as she sank upon her knees in front of the sick woman, and shuddered from head to foot in view of the fate before her.
Mrs. Allandale was so overcome that she could not utter one word of comfort. She was only able to lift one wasted hand and lay it upon the golden head with a touch of infinite tenderness; then, with a gasp, she fainted dead away.