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At other times Elizabeth was her Katie grown older. It was the flowering time of Susan Hornby's life. The fact that Elizabeth had never crossed her threshold since her marriage to John Hunter had faded out of Aunt Susan's mind. Elizabeth's every word and look spoke the affection she felt for her. Other people might sneer and doubt, but Susan Hornby accepted what her instincts told her was genuine.
You've been down here, an' you don't know how hard it's been." Elizabeth had listened in a distressed silence and studied Susan Hornby's face for signs of assistance. "I guess they haven't talked " she began at length, and then stopped short at something in Aunt Susan's eye which confirmed her mother's words. "Oh, yes, they have," her mother hastened to say.
The educating processes of reforming her language that year had also tended to improve the girl in other ways and it was with her straight brown hair gathered into neat braids, clean finger-nails, and a feeling of general self-respect that she approached Susan Hornby's white-clothed table and was introduced to Mr. Hornby and the hired men who were already seated there. "Right glad t' see you.
I stood glancing around, and as I did so my eyes fell upon a quantity of photographs, framed and unframed, that were scattered about evidently portraits of Hornby's friends.
"How long is that child going to stay at Hornby's?" John demanded the next morning. He set the heavy cream jar on the table and faced Elizabeth, who was kneading the bread on the big bread-board which rested on the top of the flour barrel. "I don't know till Uncle Nate gets time to bring him home to-day, I suppose." Elizabeth did not look up. "Well, I don't want this thing to happen again.
Singleton, of the finger-print department at Scotland Yard, to whose evidence I listened with close attention. These two thumb-prints, he stated, were identical in every respect. "And you are of opinion that the mark on the paper that was found in Mr. Hornby's safe, was made by the prisoner's left thumb?" the magistrate asked in dry and business-like tones. "I am certain of it."
Hornby's oldest boy, he went to the States, got the worst of it, and came home to die. He did not find them happy places." "Yes, but all the other Hornbys went just the same, even Jamsie. It's the chance, you know, the chance to try what's in you, even if you do come home and die! You never have a chance in Kenmore; and I don't mean to be like my mother like the other women. You see, Mr.
Hornby's horror and amazement when it was made clear that the print of her nephew Reuben's left thumb corresponded in every particular with the thumb-print that was found in the safe. "At this juncture Mr. Hornby arrived on the scene and was, of course, overwhelmed with consternation at the turn events had taken.
Nora smiled at the recollection of the horror that Mr. Hornby's remarks as to his earnings from that source had provoked. However, he had most generously sent his sister a ten-pound note as a present. Miss Pringle had, of course, no possible use for it at the time.
"Will I get like the rest of them, Aunt Susan? never go anywhere, never read anything, have nothing ahead but the same weary round over again every day?" she queried, when she was able to command her voice. Susan Hornby's face worked determinedly to control her own emotions for a moment before she could speak.
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