Verrian made a pause which his mother took for invitation or permission to ask, “And was he satisfied with that?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t, and it’s only just to Miss Shirley to say that she wasn’t, either. She didn’t try to justify it to me; she merely said she was so frightened that she couldn’t have done anything. She may have realized more than the Brown girl what they had done.”
“The postmaster, did he regard it as anything worse than foolishness?”
“I don’t believe he did. At any rate, he was satisfied with what his daughter had done in owning up.”
“Well, I always liked that girl’s letter. And did they show him your letter?”
“It seems that they did.”
“And what did he say about that?”
“I suppose, what I deserved. Miss Shirley wouldn’t say, explicitly. He wanted to answer it, but they wouldn’t let him. I don’t know but I should feel better if he had. I haven’t been proud of that letter of mine as time has gone on, mother; I think I behaved very narrow-mindedly, very personally in it.”
“You behaved justly.”
“Justly? I thought you had your doubts of that. At any rate, I had when it came to hearing the girl accusing herself as if she had been guilty of some monstrous wickedness, and I realized that I had made her feel so.”