It was one day when you were sick here, just after you asked
me to burn a letter you had got. I remember it distinctly."

He started. "I was not alluding to that," he said.

"Then what were you speaking of?"

"Of Wambush, and all the rest. Oh, Harriet, I've tried so hard to
forget him and overcome my--"

"What about him? Answer me; what about him?"

"The letter I asked you to burn was not for me. It was from old
Wambush to Toot. In it he mentioned you, and how you helped Toot hide
that whiskey, and how you confessed your love and cried in the old
man's arms."

"Mr. Westerfelt, are you _crazy_? Are you a raving maniac? I never
did anything like that. Toot Wambush was writing about Hettie
Fergusson. She is his sweetheart; she helped him hide the barrel of
whiskey in the kitchen. Oh, Mr. Westerfelt, was that what you've been
thinking all this time?"

A great joy had illuminated his face, and he grasped her hands and
clung to them.

"Harriet, I see it all now; can you ever forgive me?"

She did not answer, but hearing her mother's step in the hall she
called out, while she tightened her little fingers over his, "Mother,
come in here; come quick!"

"What is it, darling?" asked the old woman, anxiously, as she entered
the room.

"Oh, mother, he thought I was Hettie; he thought I loved Toot Wambush;
he says he doesn't care about the other thing one bit."

"Well, I didn't see how he could," said Mrs. Floyd. "I didn't, really."

"She hasn't said she will forgive me for thinking she was in love with
Wambush, and making such a fool of myself on account of the mistake,"
said Westerfelt. "I wish you'd help me out, Mrs. Floyd."

"I may not forgive you for thinking I could love such a man," answered
Harriet, "but I don't blame you a bit for the way you acted. I reckon
that was just jealousy, and that showed he cared for me; don't you
think so, mother?"

"Yes, daughter, I always have believed that Mr. Westerfelt loved you.
And if I had had the management of this thing there wouldn't have been
such a long misunderstanding. Mr. Westerfelt, Hettie Fergusson is out
in the kitchen, just crazy to know if you will withdraw the charges
against Toot so that he can come back home."

"I wouldn't prosecute that man," laughed Westerfelt, "not if he'd
killed my best friend. Tell her that, Mrs. Floyd."

"Well, she'll be crazy to hear it, and I'll go tell her." She went
into the hall and quickly returned. "Will