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"I'll never again say that the literary instinct is a burden and a reproach, Ju," said Patricia, with her eyes dancing and her head high. "Your thirst for 'plots' has proved too serviceable for me ever to point the finger of scorn in its direction." "No. I'll see Isabella, and hear what she has to say. She loved Maurice, and will aid me to avenge his death." "But surely, Uncle Jen, you don't look upon her as the guilty person!".
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"I've been working on my panel study," she said, with an effort at brightness. "I don't seem to get it finished to my liking, and the time is getting perilously short, you know." "I don't believe anyone would be so low minded!" cried Elinor, shocked and reproachful. "How can you say such things, Miss Pat?" "No. He had retired to bed," rejoined Jen. "But as soon as I saw what had taken place I called him up, and he jumped through the window to see if he could espy any traces of the robbers. Then the servants came, and I sent for you." "What is your name?" she asked, in a high, squeaking voice that Patricia failed to recognize..
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