“I have been impudent and disrespectful to you many times, Mrs. Putnam, when you were cross to me, but I never told you a deliberate lie in my life.  I have told one person that you were not my mother.”

“What did yer do it fur?” asked Mrs. Putnam.

“I wished to retain his good opinion,” replied Lindy.

“Who was it?” inquired Mrs. Putnam eagerly.  Lindy did not answer.  “Oh, you won’t tell!” said Mrs. Putnam.  “Wall, I bet I can guess; it’s that feller that’s boardin’ over to Pettingill’s.”

Mrs. Putnam saw the blood rise in Lindy’s face, and she chuckled to herself.

“What reason have you for forming such an opinion?” asked Lindy.

“Wall, I can kinder put two and two together,” said Mrs. Putnam.  “The day Alice Pettengill came over here with him you two wuz down in the parlor together, and I had to pound on the floor three times afore I could make him hear.  I knew you must be either spoonin’ or abusin’ me.”

It was with difficulty that Lindy kept back the words which rose to her lips, but she said nothing.

“Did yer tell him that I wuz goin’ to leave my money to some one else?”

“It wasn’t necessary,” said Lindy, “I judged from some things that he said that you had told him yourself.”

“Did he tell you who it wuz?” persisted Mrs. Putnam.

“No,” said Lindy.  “I did my best to find out, but he wouldn’t tell me.”

“Good for him,” cried Mrs. Putnam.  “Then ye don’t know?”

“I can put two and two together,” replied Lindy.

“But where’d yer git the two and two?” asked Mrs. Putnam.

“Oh, I have surmised for a long time,” continued Lindy.  “This morning I asked Samanthy where she was going, and she said down to Pettengill’s.  Then I knew.”

“I told her not to tell,” said Mrs. Putnam, “the lyin’ jade.  If I git up off this bed she’ll git her walkin’ ticket.”

“She’s ready to go,” said Lindy; “she told me this morning that she’d wait until you got a new girl.”

Mrs. Putnam closed her eyes and placed both of her hands over her heart.  Despite her fortitude the intense pain wrung a groan from her.

Lindy rushed forward and dropped on her knees beside the bed.  “Forgive me, Mrs. Putnam,” said she, “but you spoke such cruel words to me that I could not help answering you in the same way.  I am so sorry.  I loved your son with all my heart, and I had no right to speak so to his mother, no matter what she said to me.”

The paroxysm of pain had passed, and Mrs. Putnam was her old self again.  Looking at the girl who was kneeling with her head bowed down she said, “I guess both of us talked about as we felt; as for loving my son, yer had no right to, and he had no right to love you.”

“But we were brother and sister,” cried Lindy, looking up.