I felt pale under my whistle. Five hundred dollars! who'd 'a thought it? Down in the smugglers' cave! Goodness gracious! No wonder it looked just the thing. No wonder we all cottoned to that shawl from the start.
"I always told you something would happen to it," said mamma to Aunt Pam. "You flung it around like an old rag."
"That was the comfort of it," said Aunt Pam. "It couldn't be hurt. It could be worn in all weathers—to a wedding or a funeral, to church or to a clam-bake. It was always in the fashion, and everybody knew what it was worth."
"Except me," I said, under my breath.
"Oh, my beautiful shawl!" said Aunt Pam, beginning all at once to feel the full shock of her loss. The tears rolled out of her dear old eyes, and my sisters began to snivel, as they always did.
Mamma said it must be looked into, and for a moment I was scared. I thought of the smugglers' cave.
"What must be looked into?" I said.
"Why, the loss of the shawl," said mamma. "It must have been stolen out of the house."
Our up-stairs girl was passing through the room when ma said that, and she turned red and pale.
"Did you notice Maggie?" mamma said, when the door was shut.