think. . . . Oh, I remember now! You said
somethin' about your brother's workin' in a bank and that set me
thinkin' that Sam must be needin' somebody by this time in Lute
Small's place."

"You didn't know he needed any one?"

"No-o, not exactly; but I knew Lute, and that amounted to the same
thing. Mrs. Armstrong, I do hope you'll forgive me for--for
singin' and--and all the rest of my foolish actions."

"Forgive you! Will you forgive me for misjudging you?"

"Land sakes, don't talk that way. But there's one thing I haven't
said yet and you may not like it. I guess you and your brother'll
have to go to Sam and tell him the whole story."

Her expression changed. "The whole story?" she repeated. "Why,
what do you mean? Tell him that Charles has been in--in prison?
You don't mean THAT?"

"Um-hm," gravely; "I'm afraid I do. It looks to me as if it was
the only way."

"But we can't! Oh, Mr. Winslow, we can't do that."

"I know 'twill be awful hard for you. But, when I talked to Sam
about my havin' a possible candidate for the bank place, the very
last thing he said was that he'd be glad to see him providin' his
references was all right. I give you my word I'd never thought of
references, not till then."

"But if we tell him--tell him everything, we shall only make
matters worse, shan't we? Of course he won't give him the position
then."

"There's a chance he won't, that's true. But Sam Hunniwell's a
fine feller, there ain't any better, and he likes you and--well, he
and I have been cruisin' in company for a long spell. Maybe he'll
give your brother a chance to make good. I hope he will."

"You only hope? I thought you said you believed."

"Well, I do, but of course it ain't sartin. I wish 'twas."

She was silent. Jed, watching her, saw the last traces of
happiness and elation fade from her face and disappointment and
discouragement come back to take their places. He pitied her, and
he yearned to help her. At last he could stand it no longer.

"Now, Mrs. Armstrong," he pleaded, "of course--"

She interrupted.

"No," she said, as if coming to a final decision and speaking that
decision aloud: "No, I can't do it."

"Eh? Can't do--what?"

"I can't have Captain Hunniwell know of our trouble. I came here
to Orham, where no one knew me, to avoid that very thing. At home
there in Middleford I felt as if every person I met was staring at
me and saying, 'Her brother is in prison.' I