“Certainly,” said Geraldine, when the subject was mentioned to her. “I would leave no stone unturned to test the truth of Esther Bennett’s assertion. Only this morning it occurred to me that possibly Hannah Hawkins might have received some hint from that old witch; for I have heard that when she was dying she tried to speak of Mildred, and pointed toward Beechwood. I’ll go down to-night and question Mrs. Thompson.” Accordingly that evening found Geraldine seated in Hepsy’s kitchen and so wonderfully gracious that the old lady mentally styled her a right nice girl, and wondered how she could ever have called her “nippin’” and “stuck up.” Warily, cautiously, little by little, step by step, did Geraldine approach the object of her visit, throwing out a hint here and a bait there, until, feeling sure of her subject, she came out openly, and asked old Hepsy “if she had any objections to telling a lie provided she were well paid for it.” “But, mercy! Is there any one who can hear us?” she added, drawing near to Hepsy, who replied: “Not a soul,” forgetting the while the stove-pipe hole cut through the floor of the chamber above, where Oliver was listening eagerly to the conversation. Not one word escaped him, and when it was finished he knew as well as Hepsy that for fifty dollars and a half-worn black silk dress, she was to stain her soul with a wicked lie,—was to say that in rummaging Hannah’s things she came across a little box, which had not been opened since her daughter’s death, and which when opened was found to contain a letter from Esther Bennett, telling her who the child of her adoption was, but bidding her to keep it a secret from everybody. “I have written to New York to-day,” said Geraldine, “giving to Esther a copy of what she is to write and send to me by return of mail. As I cannot get the New York post-mark I shall tear off the half sheet where the superscription naturally would be, leaving only the body of the letter. This I shall rub and smoke until it looks old and worn, and then bring it to you, who the day following must find it,—in Oliver’s presence, if possible; of course your glasses will not be handy and you will ask him to read it. He’ll probably tell of it at Beechwood, or if he does not, you can, which will answer quite as well. I can’t explain all about the matter, though I may some time do so, and I assure you, dear Mrs. Thompson, that if my end is secured, I shall be willing to pay you something extra for your assistance.” Geraldine had spoken so rapidly that Hepsy had not quite comprehended the whole, and clutching her dress she said: “Yes, yes, but one thing I want to know. _Is_ Mildred Helen Thornton’s child, or is that all a humbug, got up to stop her marriage?” Geraldine had not intended to confide the whole in Hepsy, but to a certain extent she was rather compelled to do so, and she answered hastily: “Yes, all a humbug, and I’ll give you twenty-five dollars a year as long as you do not tell.”