A great joy had illuminated his face, and he grasped her hands and clung to them.
"Harriet, I see it all now; can you ever forgive me?"
She did not answer, but hearing her mother's step in the hall she called out, while she tightened her little fingers over his, "Mother, come in here; come quick!"
"What is it, darling?" asked the old woman, anxiously, as she entered the room.
"Oh, mother, he thought I was Hettie; he thought I loved Toot Wambush; he says he doesn't care about the other thing one bit."
"Well, I didn't see how he could," said Mrs. Floyd. "I didn't, really."
"She hasn't said she will forgive me for thinking she was in love with Wambush, and making such a fool of myself on account of the mistake," said Westerfelt. "I wish you'd help me out, Mrs. Floyd."
"I may not forgive you for thinking I could love such a man," answered Harriet, "but I don't blame you a bit for the way you acted. I reckon that was just jealousy, and that showed he cared for me; don't you think so, mother?"
"Yes, daughter, I always have believed that Mr. Westerfelt loved you. And if I had had the management of this thing there wouldn't have been such a long misunderstanding. Mr. Westerfelt, Hettie Fergusson is out in the kitchen, just crazy to know if you will withdraw the charges against Toot so that he can come back home."
"I wouldn't prosecute that man," laughed Westerfelt, "not if he'd killed my best friend. Tell her that, Mrs. Floyd."