"What has happened?"
He picked up a box--a common cigar box--from amid the litter of
abandoned clothing. It was quite empty save for a solitary slip of
greenish paper which had somehow adhered to the bottom.
Lydia clutched the box in both trembling hands, staring with piteous
eyes at the damning evidence of that bit of paper.
"Money!" she whispered. "He must have hidden it before--before-- Oh,
father, father!"
Chapter XXVII
History is said to repeat itself, as if indeed the world were a vast
pendulum, swinging between events now inconceivably remote, and again
menacing and near. And if in things great and heroic, so also in the
less significant aspects of life.
Mrs. Henry Daggett stood, weary but triumphant, amid the nearly
completed preparations for a reception in the new church parlors, her
broad, rosy face wearing a smile of satisfaction.
"Don't it look nice?" she said, by way of expressing her overflowing
contentment.
Mrs. Maria Dodge, evergreen wreaths looped over one arm, nodded.
"It certainly does look fine, Abby," said she. "And I guess nobody
but you would have thought of having it."
Mrs. Daggett beamed. "I thought of it the minute I heard about that
city church that done it. I call it a real tasty way to treat a
minister as nice as ours."
"So 'tis," agreed Mrs. Dodge with the air of complacent satisfaction
she had acquired since Fanny's marriage to the minister. "And I think
Wesley'll appreciate it."
Mrs.
Pages:
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260