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Isabella shuddered. "Voodoo!" she said, and that was all. But it was enough for Isabella. She shrieked and ran out of the room. Then Dido, still singing, appeared at the window, and looked at Mrs. Dallas with an expression of triumph. "Read it for yourselves," she smiled, tossing the sheet across the table. "My time's about up. It's criticism morning in the portrait class, and I want to get a lot more done before Mr. Benton comes.".

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Miss Jinny meditated for a moment. "I don't believe I'll go," she said. "I'm going back in another day or so, and mama and I will have enough of Rockham anyway. I'll stay with her and finish that library book that Mr. Spicer lent me. It's overdue now, anyway." There was generous and general rejoicing at her account of the brief interview, and a strong feeling that under this happier augury Geraldine must recover. Patricia went to bed feeling that the storm of the afternoon had been a type of her own day, and that for her the stars were serenely shining after the tempest of doubt and estrangement. This suggestion came from Isabella, but of it Dido took no notice. Without a word to mother or daughter, who were both in tears, she left the room. In the afternoon she was nowhere to be found, and both Mrs. Dallas and Isabella came to the conclusion that she had fled to avoid being forced into giving incriminating evidence. They fell into one another's arms and were beside themselves with terror. All the evil done by Dido and Etwald seemed likely to fall upon their innocent heads. To my dying day I'll never forget that little house, away out on the hillside, he took me to in his shabby little car. Just two tiny rooms, but they were clean and quiet, and a girl with the sweetest face I ever saw, lay in the bed with her eyes bright with pride, and a tiny, tiny little bundle close beside her. The young farmer was red with embarrassment and anxiety..