is wretched bag?"

"A little while ago you wouldn't forgive me because I did tell the truth."

She answered like a woman. "That's _entirely_ different." And dimly Nick
realized that it would be worse than useless to ask why. Queer how a
woman seemed to want only the things you were just out of!

"You--_bought_ this bag," she stated.

"Oh, well, it's no use!" groaned Nick. "Once I thought 'twas a fake about
little George Washington; but I see now it can be harder to tell lies than
truth to some people. I can't tell one to you," the prisoner in the dock
confessed. "I did buy the bag, but when yours is found, they'll send it on
to me. Then we can change."

"It will never be found. Oh, how _could_ you?--and the five hundred
dollars!--your money. How idiotic of me--and how you must have laughed
when I paid you back the four hundred I owed--out of your own pocket."

"I never felt less like laughing in my life than I did then. Unless it's
now."

"You can't feel as distressed as you've made me feel. I still owe you the
four hundred; and another hundred besides. That makes up the five. And the
worst of all is, I can't pay you till Los Angeles. But here is the bag."

"Do you hate me so much you've got to give it back?" Nick's eyes implored
mercy from the court.

"I'm more vexed than I can tell. This is beyond everything! Please take
your bag at once."

"I swore just now it was your bag. And it is."

"Surely, it's hardly necessary for me to tell you I can't keep it?"

She held the bag out to him, and when he would have none of it, forced the
soft gold mesh into his hand. He let the thing drop, and at the instant of
its fall Kate returned, hovering uncertainly. She supposed that Mrs.
May's visitor had gone by this time, and had come to ask for a promised
book.

"Kate, there's been a mistake." Angela said. "This gold bag isn't mine
after all, though they look so much alike. Please pick it up from the
floor and give it to Mr. Hilliard."

These tactics overmastered Nick. He could not let a woman, be she maid or
mistress, grovel on the carpet in his presence. He dived for the bag, and,
pale and troubled, handed it to Kate. "It seems this has got to be mine,"
he stammered. "But I don't want it. Will you take the thing? If you won't,
it goes out of the window, sure as fate."

"Oh, ma'am, what will I do?" cried Kate. "Why, it's a rale fortune!
I--_must_ I let him throw it out the window? What all them jewels and gold
wou