“Oh, Gloria,” wailed the woman from the pillows. “I’m almost dead! Where have you been?” She was seriously changed—even with a quick glance Gloria saw this and tried to calm her.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Auntie dear,” she murmured, “but I couldn’t help it.”
“I don’t blame you! I knew you’d go. You couldn’t stand it here!” gasped the sick woman.
“It was all my fault, Glory. But I tried—”
“Please don’t talk so, Aunty,” begged Gloria, now on her knees beside the bed, “I only went to see a—sick friend, and I couldn’t get away!”
“I know. You went on Mona’s wheel and you took all your money, and I thought—”
“That I had run away! Oh, Auntie! Of course I didn’t. I wasn’t unhappy here, and you have been good and kind to me—”
“After cheating you! After sending Hazel in your place! After stealing Lottie’s money!”
“Hush, Auntie, don’t!” begged Gloria, feeling the hand of Martha Drake urging her to leave the room. “You are only excited and worked up. I know you did nothing wrong, and you must not blame yourself so—”
A grateful look came over the face of Harriet Towers. “You have taught me, you with your quiet, determined spirit. But I’ve done what I could. Squire Hanaford now has the deed of that—that place, and it’s to be made out over in your name.”
“In my name? But I don’t want it,” protested Gloria, going toward the door.
“I couldn’t live another day until I did it, and I’m afraid—”
“You did too much in one day. And a lot of it was my fault,” murmured Gloria contritely.
“When I found you had taken your money, your fur coat money—”
“Was it—was it—for—that poor wretched little woman, Margaret Gorman?”
“Oh, I’m so glad. She has been so sick and she dragged herself here, and I promised—”
“But she’ll be all right again soon,” broke in Gloria. “We took her—that is we sent her to Marie Hospital this afternoon.”
A perfect flood of relief swept over the face of Harriet Towers. Surely the weight of her anxiety had been hard to bear.
“You must come out,” insisted the officious Martha. “The doctor ordered quiet and you can’t call this—’’
“He couldn’t have ordered miracles,” spoke up the Aunt Hattie, “but they came, just the same. Glory, come over here and kiss me.”
“Now with a night’s sleep I’ll be able to go up to Squire Hanaford’s and sign that deed. When your Uncle Charley comes tell him I’m just—napping!”