She wrote to Jim
she couldn't take him, and it was a good, straight letter, too.
It came to Jim's office; he never saw it. She wrote it the afternoon
he was hurt."
"I remember I saw her put a letter in the mail-box that afternoon,"
said Roscoe. "Don't you remember, Sibyl? I told you about it--I
was waiting for you while you were in there so long talking to her
mother. It was just before we saw that something was wrong over
here, and Edith came and called me."
Sibyl shook her head, but she remembered. And she was not cast down,
for, although some remnants of perplexity were left in her eyes, they
were dimmed by an increasing glow of triumph; and she departed--after
some further fragmentary discourse--visibly elated. After all, the
guilty had not been exalted; and she perceived vaguely, but none the
less surely, that her injury had been copiously avenged. She bestowed
a contented glance upon the old house with the cupola, as she and
Roscoe crossed the street.
When they had gone, Mrs. Sheridan indulged in reverie, but after
a while she said, uneasily, "Papa, you think it would be any use
to tell Bibbs about that letter?"
"I don't know," he answered, walking moodily to the window.
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