"To think that one of your calling should have got into such a dilemma!" she said, in a low tone. "It's delicious!" "My cheeks may become bronzed, but never brazen, Miss Warren. My guilelessness should touch your sympathies." "Well," said Adah, with rather a spiteful look at Miss Warren, "I'm glad I've not got a prying disposition. I talked with you half the afternoon and did not find you out." Even Mrs. Yocomb laughed at this. "Now, Miss Warren," I said, turning to her with a triumphant look, "I hope you feel properly quenched." "Is there any record of your crime, or misfortune, or whatever it may be, in Miss Warren's newspaper?" asked Silas Jones, with a slight sneer. "Yes, sir, of both, if the truth must be told," I replied. "That is the way she found me out." This unexpected admission increased the perplexity all around, and also added to Miss Warren's merriment. "Where is the paper?" said Adah, quickly. At this peculiar proof of his daughter's indifference Mr. Yocomb fairly exploded with laughter. He seemingly shared his wife's confidence in Miss Warren to that degree that the young lady's knowledge of my business, combined with her manner, was a guarantee against anything seriously wrong. Moreover, the young girl's laugh was singularly contagious. Its spontaneity and heartiness were irresistible, and I feared that her singing would not be half so musical. "Richard Morton," said Mrs. Yocomb, rising, "if thee wishes to free thy mind, or conscience, or heart, I will now give thee an opportunity." "My fate is in your hands. If you send me back to my old life and work I will go at once." "Ah!" exclaimed Miss Warren, in mock gravity, "now there is a touch of tragedy in your words. Must we all hold our breaths till you return, absolved or condemned?" "And were I condemned would you breathe freely?" "Yes, indeed I would, if Mrs. Yocomb condemned you. But after my sense of justice was satisfied I might be moved to pity." "And you think I may become a pitiable object?" "You would be, indeed, if Mrs. Yocomb condemned you." "Lead on," I exclaimed, with a gesture of mock tragedy; "this is the hour of destiny." CHAPTER VII A FRIEND "Richard Morton," said Mrs. Yocomb, as she sat down encouragingly near me in the low-studded parlor, "thee does not look into my eyes as if thee had a great burden on thy conscience." "I have a great fear in my heart," I said. "The two should go together," she remarked a little gravely; "and strength will be given thee to cast away both." The spirit of jesting left me at once, and I know that I looked into her kind motherly face very wistfully and appealingly. After a moment I asked: "Mrs. Yocomb, did you ever treat an utter stranger so kindly before?" "I think so," she said, with a smile. "Emily Warren came to us an entire stranger and we already love her very much."