"But what can I do?" Miss Lydia gasped.

"Carl and I will go away somewhere. Out West where nobody knows us. And
then you'll come. And you'll take--_It_. You'll take care of it. And you
can have all the money you want."

"My dear," Miss Lydia said, trembling, "this is very, very dreadful, but
I--"

The girl burst into rending crying. "Don't you--suppose _I_ know that
it's--it's--it's dreadful?"

"But I don't see how I can possibly--"

"If you won't help me, I'll go right down to the river. Oh, Miss Lydia,
help me! Please, _please_ help me!"

"But it's impos--"

Mary stopped crying. "It isn't. It's perfectly possible! You'll simply
go away to visit some friends--"

"I haven't any friends, except in Old Chester--"

"And when you come back you'll bring--_It_ with you. And you'll say
you've adopted it. You'll say it's the child of a friend."

Miss Lydia was silent.

"If you won't help me," Mary burst out, "I'll--"

"Does anybody know?" said Miss Lydia.

"No."

"Oh, my dear, my dear! You must tell your father."

"My _father_?" She laughed with terror.

Then Miss Lydia Sampson did an impossible thing--judging from Old
Chester's knowledge of her character. She said, "He's got to know or I
won't help you."

Mary's recoil showed how completely, poor child! she had always had her
own way; to be crossed now by this timid old maid was like going head-on
into a gray mist and finding it a stone wall. There was a tingling
silence. "Then I'll kill myself," she said.

Miss Lydia gripped her small, work-worn hands together, but said
nothing.

"Oh, please help me!" Mary said.

"I will--if you'll tell your father or Doctor Lavendar. I don't care
which."

"Neither!" said the girl. She got on her feet and stood looking down at
little shabby Miss Lydia sitting on the step with her black frizette
tumbling forward over one frightened blue eye. Then she covered her face
with those soft, trembling hands, all dimpled across the knuckles.

"Carl wanted to tell. He said, 'Let's tell people I was a scoundrel--and
stand up to it.' And I said, 'Carl, I'll die first!' And I will, Miss
Lydia. I'll die rather than have it known. Nobody must know--ever."

Miss Lydia shook her head. "Somebody besides me must know." Then very
faintly she said, "_I'll_ tell your father." There was panic in her
voice, but Mary's voice, from behind the dimpled hands, was shrill with
panic:

"You mustn't! Oh, you promised not to tell!"

Mis