her, the
idea of being robbed in broad daylight, here in the park, appearing to
seem absurd to him.

"Down that path," cried Lettie excitedly, "a great rough man with a
big stick! Oh! do go! he has my gold beads and my diamond ring and"--

Whether the policeman did not care to encounter a rough thief with a
big stick, or whether he really did not believe her, he here
interrupted with:--

"I guess he has your sense, too! I think I better run you in--you'll
do fine for the crazy ward!"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, no!" cried Lettie, this new danger filling her
with terror. "Never mind; let him go, but don't arrest me. It would
kill my mother, and me too!"

"Well, then, don't talk so crazy," said he gruffly. "I don't believe
your story--nor nobody won't, an' if it's true, 'n I should get him,
I'd have to lock you up for a witness. Tell me where you live, 'n I'll
see you safe home."

"Oh, no!" she cried, tears running down her face, "I'll go right home.
My mother is sick, and it would kill her!"

The man was evidently touched by her distress.

"Well, miss, you just walk along, and I'll keep you in sight to see
that no more robbers get after you."

With that she was forced to be contented, and with all the strength
left to her she hurried along the paths towards home, the policeman
following at a little distance and keeping her in sight till she ran
up the steps of her home and disappeared inside.

Lettie ran up to her room, and, locking the door, flung herself on the
bed, where she had a long cry, partly from nervous strain from the
fright she had suffered, and partly for the loss of her treasures.

"I was a fool!" she said bitterly. "Mother always told me it was
unsafe to wear jewelry in the streets and to go into those solitary
paths in the park; but I didn't believe her. I was a fool, and I'm
well paid for it! I'll never tell her--never!

"And I shall never dare to let father know, either," she went on
later; "he'd scour the world to find that man, and I should have to
be locked up as a witness,"--she shuddered,--"I'd rather lose
everything."

A good deal subdued by this experience, she almost decided to give up
the particular thing which had given her her liberty for the day,--the
moonlight sail on the river. But after hours, when she had calmed down
and decided that she would keep her experiences and her losses a
secret from everybody, the thought of the great temptation again
stirred her, and she finally