"No. Oh, no, no."

"Then there's somethin' in this, after all. An'--an'--you never told
me!" cried the widow, for the first time in her life feeling really
angry with this good friend.

"I couldn't tell you, dear Susanna. I could tell nobody. It does not
concern--any one now living."

Her hesitation was not lost upon the eager woman opposite, whose
curiosity was greater even than her anger; making her demand, promptly:

"Which was it? Box or mow?"

"I cannot tell you. I shall not say another word upon the subject. Where
are the children?" But though the tone was decisive, it was also very
gentle; and now smiling across to her irate housemate, she added: "Be
faithful to me in this matter, dear friend, as you have always been in
others. The secret is not mine to impart. You will help me to silence
all these dreadful rumors by simply ignoring them. Nothing has happened,
save Moses' trouble, to affect our life in any way. I am astonished that
people should make so much of so little, and I am both surprised and
disappointed that any rumors have been set afloat. It seems impossible
to trust anybody, nowadays, even a child! But where are the two who
belong to us? Where is Katharine? Where is Montgomery? He should be
going home, or his grandmother will worry. But be sure to put him up a
basket of food. There's that half of a boiled ham, and yesterday's bread
was extra fine. A loaf of that and a square of gingerbread should
satisfy him for the bread-and-milk dinner he was forced to put up with.
He was very helpful in running errands, I must not forget that."

Miss Eunice continued talking as if she wished to recall to herself all
the good qualities of one who had bitterly disappointed her. How could a
Sturtevant be so dishonorable? Or was it a Maitland? Which of the two
young things who had found the box and had given her their promise, had
so soon broken their word? For, of course, only by and through them
could these wild rumors have been set astir.

Susanna had listened in silence, which was not her habit. She was still
disappointed and hurt, and was trying in her own mind to put several
things together. But she rallied as Eunice paused, and said:

"I don't know where they are, ary one. The Squire he was after Monty,
hot foot. 'Twas him, he said, 'at had set the yarn a-goin'. After all,
it might be one his own wild goose make-believes, if--if _you_ hadn't
owned it was true. Of course, I'll do what you want. I alway