“I don’t believe Martha took it.” “Who else could have done it? Mrs. Halstead says she knows her servants didn’t take it. She’s had them for years, and they’re perfectly honest. And you know how queerly Martha acted while she was paying for the ice-cream. She doesn’t have much money, does she?” “No,” said Dorothy, reluctantly. “Then how would she happen to have a new five-dollar bill just like mine, all of a sudden? And why would she act so embarrassed and queer about treating us to ice-cream?” “Martha loves to treat,” said Dorothy, a little lamely. “But I’m sure she never took it,” she added doggedly. “I’m going to ask her.” “No, you mustn’t. Mrs. Halstead said she’d make up the loss to me, but we must not speak to Martha about it. Of course I won’t take five dollars from Mrs. Halstead, but I promised I wouldn’t tell Martha that she took it.” “You were very ‘uppish’ to her, though!” “Well, who wouldn’t be? That bill was on the table in my bedroom, and Martha was in the room after I was. And when I came home, it was gone.” “You were very careless to leave it on the table.” “No, I wasn’t. I didn’t want to take it with me, so I stuck it behind a picture that stands on the table. Nobody would have seen it, but Martha knew it was there; she was in the room when I put it there.” “Maybe it blew off the table.” “It might have, but I’ve looked all over the room everywhere.” Dorothy sat silent. She hadn’t wanted Martha to come, but Betty had coaxed her into it, and this was the result. “Well,” she said at last, “I’m going to tell Betty about it, anyway. I know she’ll think as I do, that Martha couldn’t have done such a thing.” “No, don’t tell Betty.” “Yes, you will tell Betty, too!” said a voice, and looking up, the two girls saw Betty looking at them. The boat had drifted near shore, and Betty beckoned to them to come in. “Now, you tell me what it’s all about,” she said, as they landed. “I’m not going to be kept out of it any longer.” When Betty spoke like that, her comrades usually obeyed her. Half scared at Betty’s frowning face, Maude told her story. “What foolishness!” said Betty, as she finished. “Martha could no more take a penny that didn’t belong to her than I could!” “Then what made her act so flustered when she invited us to have ice-cream and when she paid for it?” demanded Maude. “I don’t know,” said Betty. “And where would she get a new five-dollar bill all of a sudden?” “I don’t know,” said Betty. “And where is my bill?” wound up Maude, triumphantly, and again Betty was forced to reply, “I don’t know.” “But all the same,” she went on, “Martha didn’t take it! And I’ll prove it somehow!” “You can’t prove it unless you find my bill.” “Then I’ll find your bill!” “You can’t; I’ve hunted everywhere for it.” “Well, I _will_ find it, and I’ll make you take back all you’ve said about Martha.” “I’m sure I’d be glad to,” said Maude, staring at Betty’s angry face; “I’ve no wish to make her seem dishonest if she isn’t.”