She could not, however, keep herself from one touch of sympathy, and as a postscript she naïvely added:
“I’m sorry about the sheep.” 167
Before mailing it she carried this letter to her father. Neither of them had ever referred to the other about what each knew of the affair of the robbery. More than once it had been on the tip of Champ Lee’s tongue to speak of it, but it was not in his nature to talk out what he felt, and with a sigh he had given it up. Now Melissy came straight to the point.
“I’ve been writing a letter to Mr. Morse, dad, thanking him for not having me arrested.”
Lee shot at her a glance of quick alarm.
“Does he know about it, honey?”
“Yes. Jack Flatray found out the whole thing and told him. He was very insistent on dropping it, Mr. Flatray says.”
“You say Jack found out all about it, honey?” repeated Lee in surprise.
He was seated in a big chair on the porch, and she nestled on one arm of it, rumpled his gray hair as she had always done since she had been a little girl, kissed him, and plunged into her story.
He heard her to the end without a word, but she noticed that he gripped the chair hard. When she had finished he swept her into his arms and broke down over her, calling her the pet names of her childhood.