DOT'S words had given something of a shock to Mrs. Cragg, and now she was sorry that she had taken notice of them. For her side of the matter, it might have been better if she had seemed not to hear what was said. Her anger would only serve to fix the recollection upon the child's mind, which otherwise might have passed away; and probably also Pattie would not forget. When the two had gone to church, she would be secure of a quiet hour, the girl being out also. She meant then to restore the letters. That done, she would have no more to do with Pattie's possessions. But when a person gets into a coil through wrong-doing, it is not easy to get out again. Pattie and Dot disappeared, and Mrs. Cragg waited for the bells to cease. Mr. Cragg always went at this time for a country walk, and she believed that he had started. Just as she meant to move, Cragg came in. While he was within reach Mrs. Cragg dared take no steps. She waited with ill-concealed impatience, answered tartly when he spoke, and asked whether he did not mean to have a walk. "It's a new plan, your stopping in Sunday afternoon," said she. "I thought you always wanted fresh air, not to sit lounging about here!" "You seem in a great hurry to get rid of me." "Well, you always do go out on Sunday. Why shouldn't you?" "I do generally. I am not feeling quite the thing this afternoon— a little out of order,—and I thought I'd take a quiet time." "Fresh air's likely to do you good." "Presently, perhaps. Has Pattie said anything to you about her father's papers?" Mrs. Cragg reddened. "Why should she? What have I got to do with them? Of all suspicious men, you are the very most—" "My dear, what can you mean?" Cragg gazed in surprise. "I do not see anything to vex you in what I have said. Nor do I understand what you have in mind. There is no suspicion. I have asked a simple question. Has Pattie said anything?" "Nothing particular. Why should she?" "I do not understand her feeling about that box. She objects to examining the contents." "Yes. It's ridiculous of her!" "Then you do know?" "I didn't see what you were driving at. She told me that. The girl's an idiot. I said it was absurd, and she was as obstinate as a mule. Of course her father's papers are hers now, and she ought to read them." "I should have said that she ought. There might be something that he would wish done. But she has a feeling of delicacy. Perhaps that feeling might be more frequent—with advantage—as to those who are gone." "I don't know what you mean. I know what Pattie means. Feeling of delicacy, indeed! Stuff and nonsense! Pattie knows that her father was a scamp, and she doesn't want to make it known, that's all." "My dear! Do you know what you are saying? What reason can you have for such a notion?"