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Nevertheless, much as her mind misgave her in regard to the wedding, she was early on her way to the Elms to see if she could help. "They're sure to be flustrated," she told herself. "Aunt Amy's just as likely as not to lose what little bit of head she has and hired help are broken reeds. Esther will have the brunt of it. She'll be glad enough to see me, I'll be bound." Do not imagine that Mrs.
Maggie had provided a feast, and Leonard beamed on the table and on every one, when something in Webb and Amy's manner caught his attention. "This occasion," he began, "reminds me of a somewhat similar one a year ago to-morrow night. It is my good fortune to bring lovely women into this household. My first and best effort was made when I brought Maggie.
"He may have committed suicide," she cried, adding, in response to Mollie's and Amy's cry of horror: "You know he must have been desperate enough to do anything, poor old man, out here all alone." At the conviction in Grace's tone, Betty felt her own nerve slipping. She did not want to go into that silent house any more than the other girls did.
For many days Dick searched for the missing girl, bringing to bear all his painfully acquired knowledge of life, and the crooked ways of the world. Though unknown to Mr. Goodrich, the detective from Chicago, whom he employed, was an old companion of Dick's, and to the officer only, he confided the full story of Amy's visit to the park.
And this was the mystery of Amy's life. As I have said, after living for years in the belief that Mr. and Mrs. Stonington were her parents, they had told her the truth. Now it seemed that there was to be another change. "Oh, but why must it be so?" mourned poor Amy. "Why can't I be like other girls?" The tears rushed to her eyes.
The thing is too empty to please the better kind of readers, yet not vulgar enough to please the worse. 'But you'll try someone else? 'I don't think it's much use. They sat opposite each other, and kept silence. Jedwood's letter slipped from Amy's lap to the ground. 'So, said Reardon, presently, 'I don't see how our plan is to be carried out. 'Oh, it must be! 'But how?
Webb was human, and had nerves also, but all the thunder that ever roared could not affect them so powerfully as Amy's head bowed upon his shoulder, and the appealing words of her absolute trust. He mastered himself instantly, however, for he saw that he must be strong and calm in order to sustain the trembling girl through one of Nature's most awful moods.
Conspicuous in one corner was "lil Dory's cradle," which had been painted red, with a lettering in white on one side of it, "In memory of lil chile Dory." This he had placed in what he called the parlor that morning, after dusting it carefully and putting a fresh pillow case on the scanty pillow where Amy's head had lain.
She had given him a clue to discover when and how to trust himself to enjoy; the story of Sintram had stirred him deeply, and this very day, Amy's words, seemingly unheeded and unheard, had brought home to him the hope and encouragement of that marvellous tale.
This is real. . . . It's getting rather cold tonight. I must run in and see if Susette is warm." She still felt Amy's presence. Out of the various rooms certain pictures, chairs and vases forced themselves upon her attention. For some time past she had disliked them. It seemed to her at moments as though she could not have them here. She knew what they were waiting for now.
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