She turned her back upon them and before they realized it she was
gone. She had, indeed, something of the grand manner. She had
come to plead guilty to a theft and she had left them all feeling
a little like snubbed children. Mrs. Fitzgerald, as soon as the
spell of the girl's presence was removed, was one of the first to
recover herself. She felt herself beginning to grow hot with
renewed indignation.

"A thief!" she exclaimed looking around the room. "Just an
ordinary self-convicted thief! That's what I call her, and
nothing else. And here we all stood like a lot of ninnies. Why,
if I'd done my duty I'd have locked the door and sent for a
policeman."

"Too late now, anyway," Mrs. Lawrence declared. "She's gone for
good, and no mistake. Walked right out of the house. I heard
her slam the front door."

"And a good job, too," Mrs. Fitzgerald armed. "We don't want any
of her sort here--not those who've got things of value about
them. I bet she didn't leave America for nothing."

A little gray-haired lady, who had not as yet spoken, and who
very seldom took part in any discussion at all, looked up from
her knitting. She was desperately poor but she had charitable
instincts.

"I wonder what made her want to steal," she remarked quietly.