“I have gone over these diaries,” said the gentleman, as he picked up one of the three books that lay on the table, “and I find that Miss Cynthia Loretto Stillwell has not passed a day in this house, within the last two months in which she has not searched for the valuable thing. Certainly her diligence should be rewarded,” ended the gentleman, as he bowed ceremoniously to that lady, whose eyes radiated with triumphant joy.
“Miss Janet, I find,” his eyes gleamed pleasantly at that winsome young woman, “has been somewhat of a delinquent at times, for there are several entries missing in her diary. But as its reading shows that her heart is a kindly one, as shown by her careful nursing of the young British soldier, I certainly think that she should be well favored.
“Miss Nathalie, I am afraid, has not done her duty as faithfully as she might have, in looking for the valuable thing”; he spoke somewhat severely as he peered over his glasses at the girl, whose cheeks flushed, their red deepening, as she caught a gleam of satisfaction emanating from Cynthia’s eyes.
“But her negligence has been more than compensated for,”—there was a queer note in the gentleman’s voice, “as this record of two months is so filled with kind acts for others, that— Well, ladies, possibly you have begun to sense that it is not the finding of the valuable thing that is to win out, but the acts it typifies. Each day has been conscientiously noted in Miss Nathalie’s diary, and almost every day bears a record of some good work done for others. I think—well—I am inclined to believe that the young lady—”
Mr. Banker paused abruptly, for at this moment a loud knocking sounded on the door. Cynthia, who was standing near it, with a frown on her face, stepped impatiently forward, and with a hasty movement threw it open.
On the threshold stood Mrs. Carney, who, the next moment, with her sharp gray eyes peering defiantly out from under the queer poke-bonnet, while the basket on her arm stuck out aggressively, brushed quickly past Cynthia and into the room. But that lady, with two red spots on her cheeks, seized her by the arm, crying, “You can’t come in here now; we have company,” turning the old lady, as she spoke, and roughly shoving her towards the door.
“Oh, Cynthia, don’t be rude to Mrs. Carney!” pleaded distressed Nathalie, as she sprang to the side of her queer little friend. “How are you, Mrs. Carney?” she asked gently, smiling at the face under the bonnet. “We are very glad to see you. You don’t mind Mrs. Carney joining us, do you?” continued the girl, looking at Mr. Banker. “If you do,” she added quickly, “and will excuse me, I will go down-stairs with her, so we can have a little chat.”
“No, Miss Nathalie, we do not mind Mrs. Carney joining us; in fact,” again that queer little note in Mr. Banker’s voice, “I was just about to ask you to go and bring her here.” He advanced as he spoke and cordially shook the hand of the old lady, who pressed his warmly, but said nothing.
“Ah, here is your favorite seat,” continued the gentleman; “perhaps you would like to sit down in it. But I forgot, ladies; perhaps you have not met Mrs. John Renwick,” he had turned towards the occupants of the room smilingly, “the lady who has allowed you the privilege of summering in her house for the last two months, your neighbor of the little red house. As you see, Mrs. Renwick is alive, and I will ask her to take charge of her own letter of instruction, and see that the reward is given to the right one—and—”
The gentleman paused, for Mrs. Page, with a glad light in her eyes, was already at the lady’s side, crying, “Oh, sister Mary, it was kind of you to take this way of giving us such a lovely summer. And I am so glad that you are alive and well.” She kissed Mrs. Renwick with warm cordiality. “Do you know,” she continued smilingly, “I was rather suspicious that you were up to one of your—”