"She had hold of that heavy rocking chair we have in the library," Amy said. "She was trying to pull it away from me, and I was hanging on to it for dear life.
"Then suddenly I let go, and Aunt Sarah--she's pretty heavy, you know--lost her balance as the chair swung forward, and fell over backward, striking her head on the sharp edge of the piano."
"Goodness, you must have been scared," commented Mollie.
"'Scared!'" echoed Amy. "Why, I was struck dumb with terror. I thought I had killed her. She lay there all white and funny, and her head was bleeding dreadfully----"
"There's your scalp wound for you," Betty pointed out. "Just a little scratch will make the whole place look like a shambles."
"But what happened to your aunt Sarah, Amy," pursued Mollie interestedly. "We know she didn't die."
"Well, I should say she didn't!" said Amy roundly. "She was as good as ever in ten minutes and laughing at me for being so frightened. But we had to have the rug sent away to get the stain out," she added significantly.
"Huh," said the girls, and once more became thoughtful.
"But suppose you were right, Betty?" said Mollie, after a while. "Suppose our poor musician is torturing himself by thinking he has committed a crime that he hasn't? What could you possibly do about it?"
"I don't just know," Betty admitted truthfully.
"We might ask your father," Grace hazarded, but Betty turned on her, startled.
"That's just the thing I don't want to do!" she said hurriedly. "Dad is just the best and most easy-going father in the world, but he has a terribly stern sense of justice. I'm not sure he wouldn't think we were making ourselves--oh, what do you call it----"
"Accessories after the fact?" suggested Mollie, helpfully.
"That's it," said Betty. "He might argue that we were committing a crime ourselves by helping to hide a criminal----"
"Well, maybe we are, at that," said Grace, uncomfortably.
"They can put you in jail for that sort of thing, can't they?" added Amy, a suggestion which certainly did not add to the cheerfulness of the atmosphere.
"I don't care," said Betty stoutly. "I'd rather go to jail than deliver a man to a doubtful justice--especially when he may really be innocent. Anyway," she added, reasonably: "who is there to know that we went to Paul Loup's cabin the other day? I'm very sure no one saw us go in or come out, and if we keep quiet no one will have to know. That's why I didn't even want to take dad into our confidence."