She seemed
to be near the point of tears.
"Maybe that's why it's so red," the other answered with unspeakable
contempt. "I'm so mad I can hardly sit still."
She wound her yarn close and stuck her needle into the ball.
"Thank goodness!" said she, suddenly; "here comes Serene."
The sister Serene Davis, a frail, fair lady, entered.
"Well," said the latter, "I suppose you've heard--" she paused to
get her breath.
"What?" said the sister Lize, in a whisper, approaching the new
arrival.
"My heart is all in a flutter--don't hurry me."
The sister Lize went to the door and closed it. Then she turned
quickly, facing the other woman.
"Serene Davis," she began solemnly, "you'll never leave this room
alive until you tell us."
"Can't you let a body enjoy herself a minute?"
"Tell me," she insisted, threatening with a needle.
Ruth Tole regarded them with a look of firmness which seemed to
say, "Stab her if she doesn't tell."
"Well," said the sister Serene, "you know that stylish young widow
that came a while ago to the Moosehead--the one that wore the
splendid black silk the night o' the ball?"
"Yes."
"She was a detective,"--this in a whisper.
"What!" said the other two, awesomely.
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