Auntie was in a terrible ill humor, the atmosphere seemed surcharged with discord; throughout the whole day everything seemed to go amiss. Marjy was burning with a desire to tell her aunt, alternated with a shivering fear of her disbelief, and consequent sarcastic remarks. James made a vain endeavor to see Henry; no one knew his whereabouts all day; late in the evening he came to the house, looking pale and dispirited. Marjy clasped his hand in cordial greeting; this elicited an angry ejaculation from Aunt Hattie, beyond which she gave no sign that she knew of his presence. James and Marjy sat looking over some stereoptic views to cover their desire to watch the two, and both were trying to find a suitable opportunity to bring up the subject of the lost money, so as to be able to explain how they came by their knowledge of the hiding place. The attitude of both Henry and auntie was such as to discourage a commencement. At last James wrote on a card: “You will have to tell them; I will corroborate your account.” Marjy replied: “Oh, I cannot. It makes me shiver to think of it; they both look so forbidding.” Henry sat on the corner of a sofa, with his eyes fixed intently on Aunt Hattie; they did not observe this until she arose and stood beside her chair as though waiting; her lips were moving rapidly but inaudibly. Henry, still looking fixedly at her, said slowly: “Speak aloud!” She began repeating the combination, and step by step went through the performance of the previous night, until she had taken the money from its hiding place. Henry at that moment, pale and resolute—though trembling with excitement—commanded her to awaken. It was most pitiable to see her when she realized her situation; the overturned chair; the casters lying on the floor; the bills grasped in her shaking hands; Marjy and James silently regarding her; Henry, with a look of exhaustion on his face, lay back among the dark cushions. At first she was utterly bewildered; then, as she looked at the bills grasped in her hands, a ray of joy, quickly succeeded by anger, gave her voice: “You think you are awful smart, don’t you? Playing tricks on an old woman! I should like to know what you have been doing to me!” she stormed; then looking at the open safe, and the bills in her hand she began to sob weakly. “Don’t cry, auntie, it is all right!” said Marjy soothingly. “No, no! It isn’t right! I remember now—of hiding that money; and to think that I have accused Henry and you of taking it—Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” sobbed she; “I did not remember it until now!” she wailed disconsolately.