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entered.
    “Aunt Agatha,” Louisa said, feeling a sudden dropping sensation in her stomach at the appearance of her aunt.
    Agatha Winston nodded brusquely at her pretty niece, then, when her sister failed to do so, she shut the door firmly as though to close away all intruding eyes. Louisa glanced covertly at her aunt while the widow Harper came over to the bed, an uncertain smile on her face.
    “What is it, mother?” Louisa asked, her eyes lowering now to avoid the gaze of her turning aunt.
    “Well, dear, we—”
    “We want to speak to you, Louisa,” Agatha Winston said, assuming, as her natural due, the role of inquisitor.
    That sinking in her stomach again. “Talk to me?” asked Louisa faintly, trying hard to remember if she’d done anything to offend her aunt. Was she supposed to have come to the shop today? No, it couldn’t be that; she only worked there Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays in return for the financial aid Aunt Agatha gave to them.
    The bed creaked as Louisa’s mother sat down gingerly beside her. Louisa glanced at her with the effort of a smile trying her lips. “What is it, mother?” she asked.
    Her mother smiled nervously, then glanced toward Agatha for help.
    “Louisa,” said her aunt.
    “Yes, Aunt Agatha.”
    “I am going to ask you a question to which I expect an honest answer.” Agatha Winston leaned forward, her beak-like nose aiming at Louisa like a spear point, her black eyes searching. “Remember, Louisa,” she cautioned, “there’s nothing to be afraid of as long as you tell the truth.”
    “Darling,” murmured Elizabeth Harper, covering one of her daughter’s hands with her trembling own. Louisa glanced nervously at her mother, then back again to her aunt. She didn’t understand.
    Aunt Agatha said, “What has John Benton to do with you?”
    Louisa couldn’t stop the catching of breath in her throat, the paling of cheek, the startled widening of her eyes.
    “John Ben—” she began, then stopped, her voice failing. She felt her heart beating heavily and had the pointed sensation of her mind being ripped open, hermost secret thoughts plucked out, naked and terrible. For a second she thought she might faint so strong was the welling of shock.
    Agatha Winston straightened up with a look of vulpine self-justification on her lean face. She glanced once at the lined face of her sister, then back to Louisa whose cheeks were now coloring embarrassedly.
    “W-why do you ask that, Aunt . . .” Louisa swallowed hastily, “. . . Agatha?” she finished.
    “What has John Benton to do with you?”
    “N-nothing, Aunt Agatha. I don’t even—”
    “
Louisa.
” Aunt Agatha’s voice threatened and Louisa stopped talking. “You have nothing to be afraid of as long as you tell the truth like the good Christian girl I hope you are.”
    Numbly, Louisa felt her aunt’s gaunt hand fall on her shoulder.
    “But—” she began.
    “We expect the truth, Louisa,” her aunt said.
    Louisa stopped again and sat there, heart pulsing heavily in her chest.
    “There was a fight this morning, Louisa,” Agatha Winston said. “Between John Benton and the young man you will probably marry.”
    “Rob—” Louisa’s voice broke off and she stared up speechlessly at the hard face of her aunt. She wanted to run from the room; go anywhere to get away from her aunt. Her throat moved in a convulsive swallow. I didn’t mean it, the thought wavered across her mind, I didn’t mean it at all . . .
    “The facts are not clear,” Aunt Agatha said in concise tones, “but it appears that young Coles was defending your honor against that . . .
man.
”
    Louisa felt herself drawing in, backed into a defenseless corner. How could this have happened? She’d had no idea Robby would take her joking taunt so seriously. She’d only wanted to make him angry and jealous and put some life into him.
    “Darling, what did that terrible man do to you?” Elizabeth Harper asked in a faint voice, fearing