"What will my mother say?"

"She will say you are a naughty girl, and punish you for what you have done. If you go with me, she will be so glad to see you when you get back, that she won't say a word. She will find out what you are made of then; if you go back now, she will see that you are nothing but a chicken at heart, and she will punish you, as you deserve to be for deserting your friend."

"My mother would feel awfully if I did not come back to-night,"

continued Kate, thoughtfully, even sadly; and she was sincere now.

"She will get over it."

"She would feel dreadfully."

"So much the better; the worse she feels the more glad she will be to see you when you do go back."

Kate saw that it was useless to reason with her companion on this point; besides, there was a certain sacred feeling in her heart which f.a.n.n.y could neither understand nor appreciate, and she was unwilling to expose it to the rude reproaches of one who seemed to have no heart.

She was too timid, rather than too conscientious, to engage in such a gigantic scheme of wickedness as that which f.a.n.n.y had indicated; and we must do her the justice to add, that the blessed influence of a mother's love, stronger and deeper in her heart than principle, a.s.serted its sway, and to give her mother a week of pain and anxiety was revolting to her.

She was fully determined not to go to New York city, and to get home as soon as she could. But f.a.n.n.y had so much to say about "backing out,"

and "deserting her friend," that she deemed it prudent not to mention anything about her resolution. She knew her companion well enough to believe that it would be useless to attempt to persuade her to abandon her brilliant scheme; and f.a.n.n.y was so resolute and self-willed that she might find a way to compel her to go with her, whether she was willing or not.

"Do you want to know how much money I have got?" asked f.a.n.n.y, after a silence of some minutes, during which Kate had been thinking what she should do.

"I should like to know," replied Kate, who, however, was really indifferent after she had decided not to partake of the good things which the stolen money could purchase.

"You take the tiller then, and I will count it. Keep it just as it is,"

said f.a.n.n.y, resigning her place to her fellow-voyager.

The boat was going along very easily with the wind on the starboard quarter, and did not need much attention. She was approaching Pennville, and the cruise was nearly finished. f.a.n.n.y took the roll of bills from her pocket, and proceeded to count it. The notes were nearly all "greenbacks," with a few small bills on the state banks. There were twenties, tens, and fives, and the thief was almost frightened herself when she ascertained the amount she had obtained.

"One hundred, one hundred five, one hundred and ten," said f.a.n.n.y, as she counted the money; "one hundred and ten----"

"Why, f.a.n.n.y Grant!" cried Kate, horrified at the greatness of the sum.

"Fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty----"

"They will send you to the state prison for stealing so much money!"

added Kate, trembling as the large numbers were mentioned.

"The more the better," replied f.a.n.n.y, trying to keep cool, though she was much agitated herself, as, measuring the crime by the amount of the money, she realized how guilty she had been.

She finished the counting; and the whole sum was one hundred and seventy-three dollars and eighty-five cents.

"There is a great deal more than I thought there was," said she.

"Why did you take so much?" asked the terrified Kate.

"I didn't know how much there was."

"You will have all the constables in the county after you before night."

"And after you, too."

"I didn't steal it."

"Well, you were with me, and I will give you some of it."

"I don't want any of it."

"Don't you?"

"No, I don't; I don't think it is fair for you to try to make it out that I helped you steal the money, when I didn't, and when I didn't know anything about it."

"You knew I had some money before you got into the boat. You are scared--that's all."

"I am scared, and I wish I hadn't come."

"I wish you hadn't, because you are so frightened; but now you have gone so far, you can't back out. You want to return to Woodville, and tell them I stole the money."

"No, I don't."

"I'm never going back to Woodville again. They have been talking about sending me to my uncle's, in Minnesota, and I'm not going to be sent there."

"What shall I do, then?" demanded Kate, awed and astonished at the desperate purpose of her friend.

"I will see that you get back home all right. Here is some money to pay your pa.s.sage," added f.a.n.n.y, counting out a portion of the bills.

"I don't want that."

"Very well," answered f.a.n.n.y, putting the bills in her pocket; and she looked so firm and so "ugly" that Kate was actually afraid of her.

The Greyhound had nearly reached the pier at Pennville; but f.a.n.n.y did not intend to land at any public place, and she ran the boat up to the bank of the river, a short distance above the village, grounding it lightly on a kind of beach she had chosen as a landing-place. f.a.n.n.y took the boat-hook in her hand, and jumped ash.o.r.e.

"Now, Kate Magner, before we go any farther, we must come to an understanding. If you think you are going to leave me to bear all the blame, you are mistaken."

"I don't mean any such thing," replied Kate.

"Yes, you do; you mean to betray me."

"No, I don't."

"Why didn't you take the money I offered you, then?"

"I don't want it."

"You are in the boat, and I am on the land. If you don't take the money, I will push the boat off, and she will carry you away--I don't know where."

"Don't do that."

"Will you take the money?"

"Yes, I will," answered Kate, who was more afraid of the boat than she would have been of a demon.