that she
had taken Miss Minford to her house, the day after the murder, and had
asked the poor child to live with her, to be her adopted daughter. Miss
Minford had gladly accepted the offer, and had stayed there until
yesterday. During the last two or three days, she had noticed that Miss
Minford, or Pet, as she always called her, was worried about something.
She would not tell Mrs. Crull what was the matter, but Mrs. Crull
somehow guessed that it was a love affair. She remembered the handsome,
dissipated young man at the inquest, and she had seen him standing at
the corner below her house, only two days before Miss Minford left.

"Left!" exclaimed Overtop, jumping at a conclusion. "Then that villain
has abducted and ruined her."

"It's bad enough, I fear," continued Mrs. Crull; "but perhaps not so bad
as that 'ere. Anyhow, I hopes not. I spoke to Pet about that young man,
and she looked as innocent as a spring lamb at me, though she kind o'
blushed when she denied having met him since the trial. And, to do her
justice, I don't think she had met him then, though I sort o' suspeck
she seen him from the window two or three times--she had a habit of
looking out o' the window--and that he contrived to have a talk with her
somewhere and somehow, the day before she went away. And I think he must
have had the cheek to come into this very room" (Mrs. Crull had shown
her visitors into her front parlor), "because one o' my servants says
that she heerd a strange voice in the entry, and the door shut as if
somebody had gone out. When she come into the entry to see who it was,
she saw Pet hurrying into the parlor, and heerd her humming a tune. Pet
wasn't in the habit of humming tunes; and, the servant thought that
rather 'spicious. So do I--not of any wrong, mind you. I wouldn't
believe that till it was proved. But, to make a long story short, here
is the note that poor Pet left on my dressin' table. Read it. I--I
haven't got my spectacles."

The truth was, that Mrs. Crull's eyes were filling with tears, and she
could not have read the now familiar lines on that little piece of paper
even with the powerful aid of her spectacles.

Monday Evening.

DEAR MRS. CRULL:

Please pardon me for what I have done. I knew you would not
consent to it, and so I did not tell you. I was afraid I
should become a burden to you; though you are too
good-hearted to say so. I have a nice place, and am earning
my