“But,” interrupted Mrs. Collins, “the coroner’s jury said yesterday that they wasn’t any manner of doubt but that she wasn’t crazy. She jes’ set there, with her solemn big eyes, and looked straight ahead and never said a word.
“I wonder how a woman’d feel to know that the baby girl she loved better’n her own life would have to grow up in this drudgery and then finally spend the last of her years in a ’sylum?”
“Yes and ’spose Mamie went crazy herself long ’fore the little girl grew up?”
“I wonder if a woman really loved her baby girl if she wouldn’t rather—” she stopped once more with a frightened look.
Wheels were heard coming down the lane.
Mrs. Prentis spoke quickly: “Sarah Ann Collins, we’re goin’ right downstairs and stick this letter in that cook-stove, quick!”
IN THE little kitchen below, the women were cooking supper when the county attorney and another man entered.
“Good evening, ladies,” said the attorney. “We decided to come out again and go carefully over the field to see if we could find any evidence. You haven’t, by chance, found anything, have you?”
Mrs. Prentis looked covertly at Mrs. Collins, then answered: