but this Californy
girl was a lot the best-lookin' of the two--a lot. An' she was rich--or
so everybody thought. This un ain't. I got that out of Ponk 'fore he
knowed it. An'--well, to make a story end somewhere this side of
eternity, I never could bear them ramblin' kind of folks--first thing
folks knowed a rich old bachelor got animated with her, just clear
_animated_, an' literally swore by her. An'--well, things got to missin'
a little an' a little more, an', sir--well"--slowly and
impressively--"it turned out at last that this girl who they said was so
rich was a _thief_, takin' whatever she could get, 'cause she was hard
up an' too proud to go back to Oregon to tell her folks. An' that rich
bachelor jist defended her ever' way--'d say he took things accidental,
an' then help her to git 'em back, or git away with them--it was like a
real drammy jist like they acted out in the picture show t'other night
down-town. There was lots of talk, an' it nearly broke his sister's--I
mean his mother's--heart. But, pshaw! that all happened years ago down
in Indiany on the White River. It's all forgot long 'go. Guess I'd
never thought of it again if this Swim girl hadn't come here with her
big eyes, remindin' me of that old forgot eppisode, an' your losin'
your purse mysterious. How things happen, year in an' year out,
place after place, the same kind of things; good folks everywhere,
though--everywhere. I was in York's office late yistyday afternoon, an'
this girl comes in. Too bad she's so poor an' so pretty."

There was a venomous twist of the hooks at that word "pretty."

"But she's in trouble some way, all right, I know, an' York 'll help her
out. _I_ wouldn't ask him. Men take more int'rist naturally in young an'
pretty women. But it's different with older women. I hope York never
gits caught sometime like that man I knowed back in Indiany. He's too
smart for that. Miss Swim must have told York about her money shortage
yistyday. The postmaster said she'd been waitin' for a check
considerable. I couldn't get nothin' out of _him_, whether it had come
yet or not. But I guess not. But la! la! she's your guest; you wouldn't
let her suffer; an' I ain't tellin' a soul what I know about things. I
do know what they say, of course. York won't let her suffer. But I'm so
much obliged to you. Four dollars will be all I need, an' I'll pay you
with the first bakin's. I guess I'll set some folks thinkin' when they
see I can make my own