What or whoever the girl at
the Ball homestead might be, Tunis Latham was bound to her by ties
which could not be broken.
She did the thing most generous; quite in accordance with her
unselfish disposition. She stepped nearer to her nephew and put her
arms about his neck. She kissed him. She gave no further evidence of
doubt or disapproval. Indeed, when he left her to go to his room, he
was assured that, however the world might look upon him, Aunt
Lucretia was his supporter.
The girl in the Ball house saw the glimmer of his lamp that night
for a very few minutes. There was a day's work before him, and
Tunis Latham, like other hard-working men, must have his sleep.
Sheila kept the night watches alone. She went to bed, but the lids
of her eyes could not close. Sleep was as far from her as heaven
itself. She went over the entire happenings of the previous
afternoon and evening with care, giving to each incident its
rightful importance, judging the weight of each word said, each look
granted her. Did the Balls suspect her in the least? Had the story
Ida May Bostwick told made any real impression upon their minds?
No! She finally told herself that thus far she was secure. Ida May
must bring something besides assertion to influence the minds of the
two old people.
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