"There's nothing more. That was all. I didn't think about it again—not even when the bank-note was lost. Because, of course, I didn't see a bank-note in her hand; only I'm sure there was something. And then when they said it had been found in your box, I couldn't help remembering." Lettice shivered silently. "You've promised you won't tell. But I say, what could make her do such a thing? It wasn't like Mamsie! It has made me feel horrid since—I mean, since I guessed what she did . . . Only you must keep my secret, Lettice. I couldn't have her know that I knew. I shouldn't dare." "A boy—not dare!" "Oh, but this sort of thing. I'd fight a boy any day, and not care; but I can't tell about this! Lettice, I couldn't! It would be so—Oh, you know! You'll keep my secret?" "I must. I have promised." "And you don't mind?" "Yes, I do mind. Of course I mind—very much. I want to be cleared, more than you can imagine. It is dreadful to have people thinking that one is a thief. But I do not mean to break my word." "If it were any one else; any one except Mamsie! I shouldn't mind then. I couldn't possibly tell now. I do wonder, though, what made her do such a thing. What could make her?" "She doesn't like me, and she doesn't like you to love me. That is no real reason, of course; and I don't know any other . . . I think we had better not talk any more of this just now. I shall be saying something I ought not." "And then you would be sorry, wouldn't you? Lettice, are you cold still? It's getting near teatime. Why don't you come downstairs?" "No hurry. What did you want me to do for you?" She could not yet face Theodosia. "Oh, only to paste in some of my scraps. I've got a nice lot of paste. Will you do it now?" He rushed away for the scrap-book, his mind at once diverted from the subject under discussion. Lettice longed for a quiet half-hour; yet perhaps employment was better for her than solitary cogitation, and Keith's chatter left no loophole for steady thought. Trembling lessened under the need for careful work, but severe headache came on instead, and at length she was obliged to lay down the paste-brush. "Keith, I don't think I can do any more till I have had some tea. I wonder if you could get me a cup?" "I'll ask Mamsie. And some cake?" "No, only tea. And then I needn't leave this to go downstairs." Keith ran willingly enough, but he returned with a crestfallen air. "She says it's nonsense, and I shall smash the china; and if you want any tea, you are to get it yourself." "Very well. You can finish sorting these pictures while I am away."