They were laughing downstairs, all very lively, Miss Dolly and those three men. Maggie stood at the head of the stairs, listening to them, and she was completely at a loss. Something had to be done about Mr. Camford’s wallet; somebody had to be told. And there was nobody here that she trusted.
It startled her to realize that. Not one of them, she thought. Not the Gettys, and not Miss Plummer, certainly not Neely. And not even Miss Dolly. She doesn’t tell the truth, and she’s not sensible about things.
Well, Mr. Cassidy? she thought. She considered him for a moment, and then ruled him out. I don’t really know how he feels about things, she thought. I wish I could have a talk with Mother. Or Mrs. Crabtree.
Mrs. Crabtree! She nearly said the name aloud. But that’s the thing to do, she crie
