Here was a faint illumination with which Mrs. Gereth instantly mingled
her fire. "You dear old wretch!" she exclaimed; and she again, with
ferocity, embraced her young friend.
Fleda submitted like a sick animal: she would submit to everything now.
"Then what further passed?"
"Only that she left me thinking she had got something."
"And what had she got?"
"Nothing but her luncheon. But _I_ got everything!"
"Everything?" Fleda quavered.
Mrs. Gereth, struck apparently by something in her tone, looked at her
from a tremendous height. "Don't fail me now!"
It sounded so like a menace that, with a full divination at last, the
poor girl fell weakly into a chair. "What on earth have you done?"
Mrs. Gereth stood there in all the glory of a great stroke. "I've
settled you." She filled the room, to Fleda's scared vision, with the
glare of her magnificence. "I've sent everything back."
"Everything?" Fleda gasped.
"To the smallest snuff-box. The last load went yesterday. The same
people did it. Poor little Ricks is empty." Then as if, for a crowning
splendor, to check all deprecation, "They're yours, you goose!" Mrs.
Gereth concluded, holding up her handsome head and rubbing her white
hands. Fleda saw that there were tears in her deep eyes.