"I'm positive I shall," replied Mrs. Fanshaw, seriously. "My nerves are in a state already. But let that pass. Whatever the cost, I should have come long ago if your behavior had been always what it should. I could not come while you hardened your heart against God's will. Your stubbornness in the beginning--they wrote me fully, Jean; your unwomanly attempt to run away; that shocking riot, all showed--" "That's past, mother." "Past, yes; but not forgotten. Shawnee Springs never forgets anything. Your escape was in the papers. I wrote you all that." "They never let me know. Not in the home papers, the county papers?" "No." Mrs. Fanshaw drew herself up. "Consideration for me prevented that outrage. The editors preserved the same delicate silence that they kept when you were arrested. But you don't seem to remember that city dailies are read in Shawnee Springs. One vile sheet even printed your picture." The girl's face crimsoned painfully. "Oh!" she cried sharply. "How could they! Where could they get it?" Her mother hesitated. "Amelia was in a way responsible," she admitted. "She was naturally anxious at your disappearance, and when a nice-mannered young man called and said that if he had your description he could help in the search, the dear girl received him with open arms. How could _she_ know he was a reporter!" "She gave that man my picture!" "Like a trusting child. Amelia has felt all our trouble so keenly. For weeks after you were sent away she could scarcely look one of her set in the face. She said she felt like a refuge girl herself. I had to appeal to our pastor to make her see that neither of us was to blame. She shrank from the world even then, but the world came to her." "Meaning Harry Fargo?" queried Jean, emerging suddenly from the gloom induced by Amelia's imbecility. "Harry was particularly sweet," admitted Mrs. Fanshaw, archly. "In fact, he has become a son to me in everything but name. If Amelia would only--but I mustn't gossip." Jean smiled without mirth. "I think she'll land him," she encouraged. Her mother frowned. "What a common expression!" she rebuked. "I thought at first I noticed an improvement in your language. Your voice is certainly better--much lower. It's the prison discipline, I presume. But speaking of Harry, I really think we may regard it as, well, reasonably sure. I must say I'm pleased. Harry is so eligible."