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“Send it back, of course.”

“Of course, so say I. To act differently would not be honest. Do you think so?”

“It would not be honest for me.”

“No, nor for any one. Now, would you have believed it? Mrs. Comegys not only thinks but acts differently.”

“You must be mistaken, certainly, Mrs. Grimes.”

“Seeing is believing, Mrs. Florence.”

“So it is said, but I could hardly believe my eyes against Mrs. Comegys’ integrity of character. I think I ought to know her well, for we have been very intimate for years.”

“And I thought I knew her, too. But it seems that I was mistaken.”

Mrs. Grimes then repeated the story of the lawn dress.

“Gracious me! Can it be possible?” exclaimed Mrs. Florence. “I can hardly credit it.”

“It occurred just as I tell you. But Mrs. Florence, you musn’t tell it again for the world. I have mentioned it to you in the strictest confidence. But I need hardly say this to you, for I know how discreet you are.”

“I shall not mention it.”

“It could do no good.”

“None in the world.”

“Isn’t it surprising, that a woman who is so well off in the world as Mrs. Comegys, should stoop to a petty act like this?”

“It is, certainly.”

“Perhaps there is something wrong here,” and Mrs. Grimes placed her finger to her forehead and looked sober.

“How do you mean?” asked the friend.

“You’ve heard of people’s having a dishonest monomania. Don’t you remember the case of Mrs. Y—-?”

“Very well.”

“She had every thing that heart could desire. Her husband was rich, and let her have as much money as she wanted. I wish we could all say that, Mrs. Florence, don’t you?”

“It would be very pleasant, certainly, to have as much money as we wanted.”

“But, notwithstanding all this, Mrs. Y—- had such a propensity to take things not her own, that she never went into a dry goods store without purloining something, and rarely took tea with a friend without slipping a teaspoon into her pocket. Mr. Y—- had a great deal of trouble with her, and, in several cases, paid handsomely to induce parties disposed to prosecute her for theft, to let the matter drop. Now do you know that it has occurred to me that, perhaps, Mrs. Comegys is afflicted in this way? I shouldn’t at all wonder if it were so.”

“Hardly.”

“I’m afraid it is as I suspect. A number of suspicious circumstances have happened when she has been about, that this would explain. But for your life, Mrs. Florence, don’t repeat this to any mortal!”

“I shall certainly not speak of it, Mrs. Grimes. It is too serious a matter. I wish I had not heard of it, for I can never feel toward Mrs. Comegys as I have done. She is a very pleasant woman, and one with whom it is always agreeable and profitable to spend an hour.”

“It is a little matter, after all,” remarked Mrs. Grimes, “and, perhaps, we treat it too seriously.”

“We should never think lightly of dishonest practices, Mrs. Grimes. “Whoever is dishonest in little things, will be dishonest in great things, if a good opportunity offer. Mrs. Comegys can never be to me what she has been. That is impossible.”

“Of course you will not speak of it again.”

“You need have no fear of that.”

A few days after, Mrs. Raynor made a call upon a friend, who said to her,

“Have you heard about Mrs. Comegys?”

“What about her?”

“I supposed you knew it. I’ve heard it from half a dozen persons. It is said that Perkins, through a mistake of one of his clerks, sent her home some fifteen or twenty yards of lawn more than she had paid for, and that, instead of sending it back, she kept it and made it up for her children. Did you ever hear of such a trick for an honest woman?”

“I don’t think any honest woman would be guilty of such an act. Yes, I heard of it a few days ago as a great secret, and have not mentioned it to a living soul.”