ot help it.

"I have brought her up to you, Mr. Grant," said the constable.

"Where did you find her?"

Mr. Long would have preferred to let Mr. Grant believe that he had
caught her himself; but the question was so direct that he could only
give a direct answer.

"She came to my house this morning."

"Very well, Mr. Long; I will not trouble you to remain any longer,"
added Mr. Grant.

"I hope you will not let her get away from you, sir," said the
constable, who thought his official position was slighted by this
intimation; and he was curious to hear what the culprit had to say for
herself.

"I will not try to get away, Mr. Grant," interposed Fanny.

"There is no fear of her getting away, even if she is disposed to do
so."

Mr. Long found himself obliged to leave, his office ignored, and his
curiosity ungratified.

"Where have you been, Fanny Jane?" asked Mr. Grant, when the constable
had gone, his tones being the counterpart of his stern, sad face.

"In New York," replied Fanny, still sobbing.

"What have you done with the money you took from the drawer in the
closet?"

"I spent most of it."

"For what did you spend it?"

"I have come back to tell the whole truth, Mr. Grant. I have been very
wicked and ungrateful to you. I am very sorry for what I have done; I
don't ask you to forgive me, for I know you can't. I am willing to be
punished as you think best, for I deserve the worst you can do to me."

Mr. Grant was a tender-hearted man. Perhaps his own children had
suffered from the gentleness of his nature; if they had, the injury had
been more than compensated for in the blessings imparted by his
tenderness. He was more than astonished at the attitude of the returned
wanderer. Fanny had never before been known to be in such a frame of
mind. The sternness of his expression passed away; there was nothing
but the sadness left. Probably he doubted the sincerity of the
culprit's contrition; at least he did not realize the depth and
earnestness of it.

"I will hear whatever you wish to say," replied he, seating himself in
his easy chair.

"I have been so wicked that I know you will find it hard to believe me;
but I mean to tell the whole truth," sobbed Fanny.

"I hope you do. You may wait till you are better able to speak. The
letter you sent to Mrs. Green informed us where you were, but we were
unable to find you."

"I came home as soon as I could; and I did not wish you to find me till
I had don