For the sake of this paltry bit of coloured paper Dolly had done it all, and now that must go!--she had not even purchased Colin's forgiveness by her wrong--and this last drop in her cup was perhaps the bitterest. She dropped the stamp guiltily between two red-hot coals, watched that too as it burnt, and then threw herself into an arm-chair and sobbed in passionate remorse. 'Oh, why did I do it?' she wailed; 'why did you make me do it, Harold?' 'Come, Dolly, I like that,' said Caffyn, who saw the necessity for having this understood at once. '_I_ made you do nothing, if you please--it was all done before I came in. I may think you were very sensible in getting rid of the letter in that way--I do--but you did it of your own accord--remember that.' 'I was quite good half an hour ago,' moaned the child, 'and now I'm a wicked girl--a--a thief! No one will speak to me any more--they'll send me to prison!' 'Now don't talk nonsense,' said Caffyn, a little alarmed, not having expected a child to have such strong feelings about anything. 'And for goodness' sake don't cry like that--there's nothing to cry about _now_.... You're perfectly safe as long as you hold your tongue. You don't suppose I shall tell of you, do you?' (and it really was highly improbable). 'There's nothing to show what you've done. And--and you didn't mean to do anything bad, I know _that_, of course. You needn't make yourself wretched about it. It's only the way the law looks at stealing stamps, you know. Come, I must be off now; can't wait for Mabel any longer. But I must see a smile before I go--just a little one, Juggins--to thank me for helping you out of your scrape, eh?' (Dolly's mouth relaxed in a very faint smile.) 'That's right--now you're feeling jolly again; cheer up, you can trust me, you know.' And he went out, feeling tolerably secure of her silence. 'It's rough on her, poor little thing!' he soliloquised as he walked briskly away; 'but she'll forget all about it soon enough--children do. And what the deuce could I do? No, I'm glad I looked in just then. Our resuscitated friend won't write again for a month or two--and by that time it will be too late. And if this business comes out (which I don't imagine it ever will) _I've_ done nothing anyone could lay hold of. I was very careful about that. I must have it out with Mabel as soon as I can now--there's nothing to be gained by waiting!'