“That’s more like it!” said Kipper. “Now, what we got to figger is how everything got told to the snake lady, meaning who done the deed. Not as how we can do much ’bout it now, but best we know who not to tell what to, and who to be extra careful ’round. Could it o’ been one o’ the old ones?”
“Never!” cried Emily.
Kipper shrugged. “One o’ them could o’ spilled a bean accidental like. Then all the rest come tumbling out.”
Emily thought this over. “I—I don’t think so.” Then she said triumphantly, “Not one of the old people knew about my gold coins, or where they were hidden, so it couldn’t have been any of them!”
“Whew!” Kipper wiped his brow. “For the same reason, couldn’t o’ been me either. Good thing I never ’lowed you to tell me ’bout that hiding place. You see how it would o’ been?”
“Kipper!” said Emily indignantly. “I never suspected you, not for a moment. And I never even remembered not telling you about that hiding place—so there!”
“Well, good thing all the same!” Kipper grinned. “Come to think on it, your aunt knew.”
“But she didn’t know anything else,” said Emily. “Besides, you know it couldn’t have been Aunt Twice.”
“Guess I do,” Kipper said. “Well then, how ’bout Mrs. Plumly?”
“She doesn’t know anything at all,” replied Emily.
Kipper scratched his head. “All that’s left then is them mysterious old Sugar Hill Hall eyes and ears everyone’s always going on and on ’bout.”
“Not—not quite all,” said Emily. “There’s—there’s still Tilly.”
“Oh, I never even considered old Til,” said Kipper. “I mean, she ain’t all that perfeck, but she ain’t blackhearted ’nough to do a thing like this. Besides, she didn’t have any knowledge ’bout anything any more’n Mrs. Plumly.”
“She could have,” insisted Emily. “She was snooping about the door the night Aunt Twice and I hid the gold coins. And she just could have caught the old people. You said once there was no one better than Tilly for ferreting out news.”
“True,” admitted Kipper. “But …” He shook his head doubtfully.
“And there’s one more thing,” said Emily. “Don’t you remember those words you sang to me about Tilly telling for peppermints?”
“Yes, but-”
“Well,” Emily interrupted firmly, “when I passed Tilly on the way to being brought down here, I smelled peppermint. And it came from her, Kipper!”
“Dingus!” exclaimed Kipper solemnly. “So ’twas Tilly after all. I never would o’ believed it!”
As dismayed by this discovery as Emily was angered by it, Kipper left soon afterwards, although only because it was too dangerous to stay any longer. And he left with the firm promise of returning the next night with a bottle of fish syrup, which, as Pa always said, strengthened the spirit as well as the appetite. Then darkness closed in on Emily once more.
She had no sooner dropped into a fitful sleep, however, than she heard her name being called out. Somehow it seemed to be woven into a terrible dream she was having.
“Emily! Emily!” the voice said urgently.
She woke up all the way at last, but it took her moments to recover from the dread of remembering where she was. The sound of her name being called, however, did not disappear with her dream. It continued to tremble in the darkness, whispered over and over.
“Emily! Emily!”
Cautiously she looked toward the window in the door, and there in the flickering light of a candle, she saw Tilly’s pale face and flat blue eyes staring at her.
“Go away, Tilly!” said Emily. “You’re a wicked girl!”
“I ain’t no such thing!” declared Tilly, her candle wavering dangerously. “And I couldn’t sleep two winks for thinking on how you might believes I told, when I ain’t the one at all!” Tilly sniffled miserably.
“Yes, you are!” cried Emily. “And there’s no use lying about it, because when I passed you in the parlor, I smelled peppermint, Tilly, and I know where it came from!”
At that, Tilly’s candle trembled even more violently. “Don’t say nothing ’bout that to Mrs. Meeching. Promises as how you won’t say nothing, Emily!”
“Why should I promise?” said Emily, who wouldn’t have told Mrs. Meeching anything for her life.
“Because I never earned them peppermints by telling!” Tilly blurted out. “I stoled ’em, Emily! You mights o’ noted how scairt I looked in the parlor. Well, that was ’cause I thoughts as how the whole shebanging meeting was ’bout me!”
Emily studied this a moment. “Well—”
“Please don’t tell!” Tilly pleaded. “Anyways, I can proves I ain’t so wicked as you thinks.”
“How?” asked Emily.
Without a word, Tilly thrust something at Emily through the tiny window in the door. The something was—
“Clarabelle!” Emily cried
Clarabelle! Clarabelle! Clarabelle!
“Oh, Tilly”, breathed Emily, “you didn’t drown her after all!”
“O’ course not!” said Tilly indignantly. “I loves kittens. Cats, too. I wouldn’t never drown no kitten, though it’s worth my life hiding this one. And case you has any doubt further ’bout my feelings, I mights as well tell you I knowed ’bout her all ’long!”
“You didn’t!” exclaimed Emily, burying her face rapturously in the kitten’s soft fur.
“Did, too!” said Tilly. “I didn’t know ’bout them gold coins, but I knowed ’bout the fish syrup from seeing it in your bucket one day, and ’bout what all the old people was doing, too. And I never told. I never did, Emily!”
“I believe you now, Tilly!” Emily cried. “I really do!”
“So can us orphings go on being friends?” asked Tilly.
“Yes, we can!” declared Emily with all her heart. “We really can!” She could hardly wait to tell this good news to Kipper.
She was so taken up with Clarabelle, however, and the startling new revelation about Tilly, it wasn’t until the two of them had left, leaving her once again in the crushing darkness, that the grim question leaped back into her mind. If not Tilly, then who?
THIRTEEN
The
