"No, she wasn’t—she was sound asleep," Virginia said, without change of expression. It was as if, in her utter depression, she had lost all individuality. "Then she don’t know," Ann put in. "No, she don’t suspect, Mrs. Boyd. If she did, she’d die, and so would I." "Well, I don’t see as she is likely to know—_ever_, as long as she lives," Ann said, in a crude attempt at comfort-giving. "I fancied you’d _want_ her to know," said the girl, looking at Ann frankly. "After I thought it over, I came to the conclusion that maybe you did it all so you could tell her. I see no other reason for—for you being so—so good to—to me." "Well, I don’t know as I’ve been good to anybody." Ann’s color was rising in spite of her cold exterior. "But we won’t talk about that. Though I’ll tell you one thing, child, and that is that I’ll never tell this to a living soul. Nobody but you and me an’ that trifling scamp will ever know it. Now, will _that_ do you any good? It’s the same, you see, as if it had never really taken place." "But it _did_ take place!" Virginia said, despondently. "Oh yes, but you don’t know when you are in luck," Ann said, grimly. "In things like that a miss is as good as a mile. Study my life awhile, and you’ll fall down on your knees and thank God for His mercy. Huh, child, don’t be silly! I know when a young and good-looking girl that has gone a step too far is fortunate. Look here—changing the subject—I saw your mammy standing in the back door just now. Does she know you left the house?" "Yes, I came to look for the cow," said Virginia. "Then she don’t suspicion where you are at," said Ann. "Now, you see, she may have noticed that you walked off without a shawl, and you’d better not wear one home. Leave it with me and come over for it some time in the day when she won’t miss you." "I think I’d better take it back," Virginia replied. "She wears it herself sometimes and might miss it." "Oh, I see!" Ann’s brows ran together reflectively. "Well, I’ll tell you. Tote it under your arm till you get near the house, and then drop it somewhere in the weeds or behind the ash-hopper, and go out and get it when she ain’t looking." "I’ll do that, then," the girl said, wearily. "I was thinking, Mrs. Boyd, that not once last night did I remember to thank you for—"