slip; and there she stood, scorn and indignation in her face as well as
in her voice. "Yes, with a difference," she went on vehemently. "If they
thought it might be, after you had paraded the thing before them, you,"
with a renewed look of scorn, "thought it _must_ be, because you wanted
it to be, because you had got to hating me. Oh, I can see it all
now,--everything, everything; how you patched things together, even to
that blotting-pad which I had used after directing my letter to my
uncle, Berkeley Pelham, who lives in Brazil. Oh, to think of such prying
and peering," with a shudder, "and to think of such enmity, anyway, all
for nothing! I've heard of such enmity, but I never believed in it, for
I never met it before. And all this time there was Tilly Morris,--oh,
Tilly," whirling rapidly about, "what a dear, brave, generous, faithful
little thing you've been," the ringing voice faltering, "for in spite
of--even this--this dreadful Smithson, you stuck to me and tried to
shield me."

"Oh, I knew, and so did grandmother, that you were innocent, whatever
might just possibly have happened to--to--"

"Mr. Smithson--" And Peggy began to laugh. But the laugh ended in
something like a sob, and she hurriedly hid her face on Tilly's
shoulder. When an instant after she looked up, it was to see that Agnes
had disappeared.

"Yes, the enemy has fled," said Tom Raymond. "The minute you dropped
your eyes she was off. We might have stopped her, Will and I, but there
wasn't much left of her. Oh, oh, oh! isn't she finished off beautifully,
though?" and Tom gave way at last to the hilarity he had so long
manfully repressed.