“Don’t think of such a thing, Miss Dexie,” said Lizzie, putting her arm around her.  “It was not your fault; Maggie has her cry over this same thing every few weeks, and feels the better for it, too, I believe.  We have many pleasures that few girls on a farm ever think of, and we ought to be content.  But I really do believe that if the grandmother could walk around the house, and should come across the books and other things that we girls have brought into it since she was confined to her room, she would die with the shock.  She thinks that everything remains about the same as it was in her day, and we are careful not to disturb her opinion; for in this case a little deceit seems wise, or, at least, necessary.”

In a few minutes the sunshine again appeared on Maggie’s face; but the feeling that was brought out by the sudden tears seemed to draw Dexie nearer to this young girl who had such a love of music, yet could not give it expression until the shadow of death had first walked before her.

The next morning brought a letter from home, and by its tone Lancy felt he must be needed; so it was decided they should return to Charlottetown, finish their visit at Mrs. Fremont’s, and then return home.

When Mr. McDonald learned that the young people were preparing to leave for the city, he called Dexie to his side, and turning to a small cupboard brought out a tin box, saying: 

“Someane left this box in ma kairt that day I saw ye in the toon.  I jaloose the owner was buyin’ somethin’ an’ laid it there an’ forgot aboot it, but I never saw it till I got hame.  I opened it to see if I could fin’ the name o’ the owner, an’ I found some papers wi’ yer faither’s name on them.  Can ye mak’ oot whit it means, ma lassie?  Somethin’ is no richt, I tak’ it.”

Dexie sat down beside him and read several of the letters and papers, and their contents filled her with surprise.  She was well acquainted with her father’s business, as she wrote many of his letters, and she saw at once that something was indeed wrong.

“How strange that I should come across this!” she said.  “This letter is written by a man named Plaisted; he does business with papa.  He has been on the Island with him, and knows the people that have had dealings with papa, before he joined him.  What are you going to do with the box, Mr. McDonald?”

“I was gaun to ask Mr. Gurney to return it to the lawyer whase name is on the inside o’ the cover.  He’s considered an honest man, though he is a lawyer.  Maybe if ye wad tell him aboot this man Plaisted, it micht keep him frae daein’ yer faither ony mischief.  It wad dae nae harm, ony way.”

“May I copy this letter written by Plaisted?  I would like to show papa what kind of a man this Plaisted is, for I think he trusts him too much.”

“Weel, it canna be ony harm, shurely, jist to copy the letter, but ye needna mention the maitter to onyane; there’s nae kennin’ whit they wad mak’ o’t.”