"About ten o'clock."

"You saw him?"

"Yes; Isabel and I were playing tennis, and I saw him go. When he came back, I met him, and he looked so queer that I asked him if anything was the matter."

"Queer? How?"

"Dark, sort of, under his eyes, and--scared."

"Phebe," the doctor looked at her steadily, searchingly; "is this all true?"

"Yes."

He took a quick turn up and down the room.

"And I thought the fellow was true as steel," he muttered to himself.

"Those eyes ought to be true. Poor fellow! I wish Bess were here to talk to him."

His face was very gentle as he went back to the dining-room. As soon as the meal was over, he turned to Billy.

"Come to the office a minute, Billy," he said.

With a look of wonder on his face, Billy followed him to the door. When they were alone, the doctor spoke.

"Billy," he said quietly; "Phebe says you were at the barn, this morning."

"So I was," he answered.

"That you were the only one who went there."

"How does she know?" Billy asked easily, for as yet he did not see whither the doctor's questions were leading.

"Did you see Vigil?"

Then, of a sudden, the truth burst on the boy, and he flushed with anger. The doctor saw his heightened color, and mistook it for guilt.

"And I trusted you so, Billy," he said sorrowfully.

"Dr. McAlister, do you think I did anything to your horse?"

"Who else?"

"I don't know, and I don't care," the boy returned recklessly. Then, with an effort, he regained his self-control. "Dr. McAlister," he said, and his true, honest blue eyes met the doctor's eyes steadily; "Dr.

McAlister, on my honor, I have not been near Vigil, nor done anything to hurt her. That is all I can say about it."

There was a silence, long and tense. Then, as the doctor made no sign, Billy turned away and went out of the office.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The doctor was attempting to argue with Theodora.

"But, Teddy, who else can have done it? n.o.body else had been to the barn."

"How do you know?"

"Because the only way to get in was through the front door. Phebe and Isabel were in plain sight of that, all the morning, and they saw no one but Billy go there."

Theodora's lips closed stubbornly, and her eyes, as they met those of her father, flashed with defiance. When at last she spoke, her manner was respectful, but her voice had an odd, metallic ring.

"And so Billy must have done it. What do you suppose he did to Vigil?"

"She was poisoned," the doctor answered briefly, for the subject was as painful to him as to his daughter.

"Do you think he did it on purpose?" Theodora's tone was hostile.

"Teddy!"

"Well, I know," she said pa.s.sionately, for her self-control had been exhausted during the past half-hour; "but you might as well say he gave the horse poison out of spite as to say he did it at all. It's so like Billy to go meddling with what doesn't belong to him. It's so like him to lie about it afterwards. Papa McAlister, Billy Farrington doesn't lie, and he has said to you over and over again that he had nothing to do with it!"

"But Phebe says--"

"Phebe!" Theodora's voice was expressive. "You believe her above Billy?"

"Teddy, dear," the doctor's voice was very low and sorrowful; "don't make it harder for me than you can help. I have loved Billy like my own boy, and I have believed in his honor as I have in Hu's; but I have found something that tells the story. Down in the hay in Vigil's manger, I found this bottle." He held it up as he spoke, and Theodora read the label. "It is what Billy uses for his pictures; no one else touches the stuff."

"And you think he put it there?"

"Accidentally. He may have dropped it, you know, as he went in. Of course, he didn't mean to be careless, and when I first spoke to him about it, he probably didn't know. I could have forgiven the accident; but when I showed him the bottle, and he lied about it to save himself--" Dr. McAlister paused.

At sight of the overwhelming testimony of the bottle, Theodora had dropped down into a chair. Now she sprang up again.

"I'll never believe it as long as I live, bottle or no bottle!" she said violently. "It is mean and cruel and abominable to lay it to Billy Farrington; and I will never believe he had anything to do with it till he says he had. I never thought you'd treat a guest in your own house like this, Papa McAlister. You can everyone of you go back on him, if you want. I intend to stand by him." She gave a nod of emphasis to her words; then, bursting into tears, she banged the door and rushed away to Billy.

She found him in his room, sitting by the window and trying to read. He looked pale and worried, for it had been impossible for him to blind himself to the att.i.tude of the family towards him during the past three days. Hope and Hubert were scrupulously polite, with a frigid, remote courtesy which was worse than open hostility; Phebe avoided him as if he had the plague; and Allyn showed a marked inclination to converse about the present state of affairs which was scarcely soothing to Billy's irritated nerves. After the first day, he had remained most of the time in his own room, whither Theodora followed him and insisted upon admission.

"What do you care if they do act like idiots?" she demanded fiercely.

"I'm ashamed of them all, utterly ashamed; but I wouldn't care."

"Yes, you would," he returned drearily. "It's no fun to be sent to Coventry like this, Ted. I wish Hope and Hu would speak out, and have it over with. I'd like a chance to defend myself; but, if this keeps on, I shall begin to think I did do it."

"Haven't you any idea?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"No."