“No; she meant Ellen Higgins, I suppose. Both Ellen and Aunt Sophia think that Dave had something to do with the robbery; and, do you know, Peter, it looks very much like it, now that Dave has gone.” “Yes,” said Peter, very solemnly, “it really does. Oh, Vic, I never should have believed it of him, should you? I liked him so much. I can’t think so even now. I believe we’ll find out yet that he didn’t have anything to do with it. Maybe he was taken ill somewhere, or something has happened, and he can’t get back. I _can’t_ believe it was he.” But the other members of the family did not agree with Peter. When they heard the news of Carney’s disappearance, they looked at one another with troubled faces. They had all liked the lad; and the discovery that he had deceived them and had treated them with such base ingratitude, after all that had been done for him, filled them with disappointment and real sorrow. Mrs. Wentworth Ward was, of course, triumphant. She plumed herself upon her superior cleverness in having suspected the boy from the first; and she soundly berated the detective for having neglected to arrest him at once. Now the thief had escaped, and there was no knowing when he would be found. With this exception, therefore, the Starrs awaited further developments with ill-concealed anxiety. Honor and Katherine were very busy during these summer days; and even the intense heat which was raging at present did not keep them from their work. As soon as school had come to an end,—early in June,—they began upon their preserving. Glen Arden was famous for its currants and cherries, as well as for its apple and pear trees. As each fruit ripened, the huge kettle was brought out, a quantity of sugar ordered, and every available hand was brought into service. Miss Madison, coming one morning to ask for Katherine’s assistance with some new music, found all so busy that she forgot her violin and, begging a large apron, sat down at the dining-room table with the others and began to stone cherries with vigor and enthusiasm. Strawberries, when they came in season, were ordered in large quantities from the market, as not enough were grown upon the place to answer the purpose. In due time, currant jelly was to be put up, and the pears—for this was a pear year—were to be turned to account. Mrs. Ward had ordered a liberal quantity of all varieties of preserves, and a message came from Mrs. Madison begging that she also might have the privilege of ordering some. All that were left were to be sent to the Woman’s Exchange in Boston, to be sold.