She saw suddenly a scene in the study—herself confronting Theodosia, accusing Theodosia to Dr. Bryant, and calling upon Keith as a witness. It would be no more than Theodosia deserved. Lettice did not shrink from the pictured scene. Her gentle nature was for once aroused to a glowing energy of anger. What had she done to bring this on her? Nothing could be too bad—no punishment could be too severe—for Theodosia! Yet she had to forgive! And her pledged word had to be kept. She might not betray the boy. "But to go away from home, leaving them all to think this of me, when one word might set it right!" she cried passionately in her heart, while outwardly a dumb still figure, only trembling with the shock. "Must I? Must I? May I not do something?—Say something? Oh, it is hard to bear!" "You don't mind so very much, do you, Lettice? What makes your hand shake? Are you cold?" "Keith, I want you to tell me all about it—exactly what you saw . . . I am not vexed with you . . . Only I must hear the whole." He nestled close to her, and spoke in a subdued undertone. "It was the day Mr. Anderson came, you know. Father and you had gone off to the station with him; and I was hiding in your room for fun. I meant to jump out on you when you got back, and to give you a fright. It was dark, and I slipped under the sofa, and lay down there. And presently Mamsie came in . . . She had a candle, and she looked so queer and pale. And she had a scrap of paper, or something, in one hand—at least, I think she had. Lettice, what does make you shake so, all over?" "Never mind. I can't help it. Go on." "Well, she tried to open your boxes, one after another; and they were locked. So she hunted about in your table drawer; and presently she found a bunch of keys somewhere. I couldn't see, but I heard them rattle. And she lifted off the topmost one of the two big boxes—she always says she can't lift things generally, you know, so I wondered she was able! And she found the right key for the bottom box, after a lot of trouble; and she unlocked it, and put her hand in. I saw her arm go in, more than half-way up to the elbow. And I was so afraid she would see me, I hardly breathed. Then she locked the box again, and lifted back the other one, and put the keys away, and went off. And I got out of the room as soon as ever I could; because I knew she would be so angry, if she found I had been there. And I never told anybody. Ought I?" Lettice could not speak. A strong nervous tremor had possession of her still; and her teeth chattered as if with cold. She put her arms round the boy for support; and rested her cheek against his curly head. "Ought I? Lettice, you're not ill? What is it?" "No, nothing. Never mind. I'm only—Hold me tight, Keith; and go on." "You're speaking in such a queer voice." "It doesn't matter. Go on. Tell me the rest."