"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Prim, looking at Ninny and then at Lucy; "yes, yes."
That was all she said; but the girls felt themselves trembling from head to foot.
"I don't know what's become of it then," murmured Ninny, twisting her handkerchief.
"Nor I don't," said Lucy.
"Nor me, neither," said Flaxie.
"Yes, yes," repeated Mrs. Prim, looking at Lucy again, and then at Ninny.
Ninny could bear it no longer, but rushed out of the kitchen door, crying, followed by Lucy and Flaxie, who tried to cry, too, but hardly knew what was the matter.
"O mamma, mamma," cried Ninny, throwing herself on her mother's neck the moment she got home; "I want you to go with me right straight to Aunt Jane Abbott's; for Mrs. Prim will come there to tell an awful story about us."
"Why, child, I can't understand you," said Mrs. Gray, kissing Ninny's hot cheeks. "What awful story can she tell about my dear little daughter?"
"O, come quick, mamma. She'll go to Aunt Jane's. She wouldn't dare come here, for papa wouldn't let her talk so; but she'll go to Aunt Jane's, for she thinks—she thinks—we've stolen some money."