She had tried to compose herself, as usual, before going into her mother’s presence, and succeeded so well that when they retired Mrs. Marvin had no suspicion of the interview.  Neither did Faith acquaint her with the extraordinary suspicions against Mr. Watkins, which she now felt ashamed to think she had harbored for a second.

She was much troubled in mind about the latter, for while she felt in her heart that Mr. Watkins was innocent she could not help thinking that he, too, was shielding a thief.  She wondered if it was because he felt the same on the subject as had his sweetheart, Miss Jennings.  She said her prayers quietly and felt more tranquil after.  There was a balm in religion for her trusting heart, which she begged with all her soul to share with others.

It was during this hour that she thought of Mr. Forbes, whom she knew was to bury his only son on the morrow.  Suddenly the thought flitted through her head that perhaps employees were somewhat to blame for not expressing more sympathy for their employers in all serious matters.

“Perhaps they think us as heartless as we think them,” she whispered to herself; then the impulse came over her to write Mr. Forbes a letter.

She rose quietly, so as not to wake her mother, and penned him the note.  It came straight from her heart.  She told him she was sorry for his sorrow.  Early the next morning she went out and mailed it.  Little Dick went with her, hobbling along on clumsy crutches.  The child had fallen in love with her at once, and, although he often cried for his sister, Faith could always cheer him and change his tears to laughter.

Late in the afternoon she rode down to the undertaker’s.  She had not become reconciled yet to parting with Miss Jennings.

As she reached the door two women were just leaving; they were Miss Fairbanks, the buyer, and Maggie Brady.  Faith was startled for a minute, for she could not understand their interest.  Neither one of them had ever shown the faintest liking for the dead girl, but now she noticed with surprise that they had both been crying.  “Truly, every cloud has a silver lining,” she murmured to herself, “and who knows but what this is the first glimpse of the lining!  Oh, I do hope it will soon show itself to poor Mr. Watkins.”

The two women had passed her with a mere nod of the head.  She opened the door of the establishment and confronted Mr. Watkins.

“Oh, what is it?” she cried, involuntarily, as she saw his face.  “Don’t, dear Mr. Watkins; don’t take it so badly.”

Mr. Watkins put his hand on her arm as she spoke.  He was so faint and weak that he seemed obliged to lean on something.

“I—­I have explained that matter about the money,” he whispered, hoarsely.  “Hardy will not annoy you any longer.  The thief has been discovered.”

He looked so wretched that the tears sprang to Faith’s eyes.

“I am glad it is explained,” she answered, hastily, “but you are ill, Mr. Watkins.  You should go home this minute.”