A Flock of Girls and Boys | Page 8

and they were wrong about "that girl."
Of course, when she set her face in this direction, she was on the lookout for everything unfavorable; and everything, pretty nearly, was turned into something unfavorable, so perverted and distorted had her vision become. It was "Dora, did you notice this?" and "Amy, did you see that?" until the two began to find the incessant harping upon one subject rather wearisome, especially as the particular details thus pointed out had never yet developed into matters of any importance.
"I wish Agnes wouldn't keep talking about that Smith girl all the time, unless there was something more worth while to talk about," broke forth Dora impatiently to Amy just after the interview with Tilly.
"So do I," Amy responded emphatically; then, laughing a little, "unless there was some real big thing to tell."
"But I don't wonder Agnes doesn't like the girl, with Tilly and Will taking up for her and making such a fuss;" and Dora indignantly repeated Tilly's accusations. Amy caught at the word "persecution," as Dora had done, and together they defended themselves against these accusations with a zeal and ingenuity worthy of a better cause.
They were in the full tide of this talk when, as they rounded the curve of the shore where they were walking, they came upon Agnes herself, coming rapidly towards them.
"Oh, girls, I've been looking for you everywhere. I've got something I want to show you," she exclaimed excitedly. "Come up here and sit down;" and she led the way to a little cluster of rocks.
Dora and Amy glanced at each other rather apprehensively. Was Agnes going to tell them something else about the Smith girl,--going to say. "Did you notice this?" or "Did you see that?" in reference to some detail that displeased her? They had worked themselves up into quite a state of indignation against Tilly and the boys, and of increased sympathy with Agnes; but they were so tired of hearing, "Did you notice this?" "Did you see that?" when there had been such uninteresting little things to "notice," to "see."
With these apprehensions flitting through their minds, the two girls seated themselves to listen with very languid interest. But what was that Agnes was unfolding,--a newspaper? And what was it she was saying as she pointed to a certain column? She wanted them to read that! The cousins looked at each other in a dazed, inquiring fashion; and Agnes, starting forward, impatiently thrust the paper into Dora's hand and cried sharply,--
"Read that; read that!"
Dora in a bewildered way read aloud this sentence, which in big black letters stared her in the face,--
"Smithson, alias Smith."
"Well, go on, go on; read what is underneath," urged Agnes, as Dora stopped; and Dora went on and read,--
"It seems that that arch schemer and swindler Frank Smithson, who got himself out of the country so successfully with his ill-gotten gains from the Star Mining Company, has dropped the last syllable from his too notorious name, and is now figuring in South America under the name of Smith. His wife and young son are with him, and the three are living luxuriously in the suburbs of Rio, where Smithson has rented a villa. An older child, a daughter of fourteen or fifteen, was left behind in this country with Smithson's brother's widow, who has also taken the name of Smith. They are staying at a summer resort not far from Boston."
The bewildered look on Dora's face did not disappear as she came to the end of this statement.
"What did you want me to read this for?" she asked Agnes.
"What did I want you to read it for? Is it possible that you don't see,--that you don't understand?"
"Understand what? We don't know these Smithsons."
"But we do know these--Smiths."
"Agnes, you don't mean--"
"Yes, I do mean that I believe--that I am sure that these Smiths are those very identical Smithsons."
"Oh, Agnes, what makes you think so? Smith is such a very common name, you know."
"Yes, I know it; but here is a girl whose name is Smith, and she is with a Mrs. Smith, her aunt, and they are staying at a summer resort near Boston. How does that fit?"
"Oh, Agnes, it does look like--as if it must be, doesn't it?" cried Dora, in a sort of shuddering enjoyment of the sensational situation.
"Of course it does. I knew I was right about those people. I knew there was something queer and mysterious about them. And what do you think,--only yesterday I happened to go into the little parlor, where there are writing-materials, and there sat this very Peggy Smith directing a letter; and when she went out, I happened to cast my eyes at the blotting-pad she had used, and I couldn't help reading--for it was just as plain as print--the last part of the