"Danny me man, it is a good thing for ye that the shaddah
of suspicion is on yer sister Pearlie this day, for it
gives her a good chance to turn yer heel. 'Sowin' in the
sunshine, sowin' in the shaddah,' only it's knittin' I
am instead of sewin', but it's all wan, I guess. I mind
how Paul and Silas were singin' in the prison at midnight.
I know how they felt. 'Do what Ye like, Lord,' they wur
thinkin'. 'If it's in jail Ye want us to stay, we're
Yer men.'"
Pearl knit a few minutes in silence. Then she knelt beside
the bed.
"Dear Lord," she prayed, clasping her work-worn hands,
"help her to find her money, but if anyone did steal it,
give him the strength to confess it, dear Lord. Amen."
Mrs. Motherwell, downstairs, was having a worse time than
Pearl. She could not make herself believe that Pearl had
stolen the money, and yet no one had had a chance to take
it except Pearl, or Tom, and that, of course, was absurd.
She went again to have a look in every drawer in her
room, and as she passed through the hall she detected a
strange odour. She soon traced it to Tom's light overcoat
which hung there. What was the smell? It was tobacco,
and something more. It was the smell of a bar-room!
She sat down upon the step with a nameless dread in her
heart. Tom had gone to Millford several times since his
father had gone to Winnipeg, and he had stayed longer
than was necessary, too; but no, no. Tom would not spend
good money that way.
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