The doctor was attempting to argue with Theodora.

"But, Teddy, who else can have done it? Nobody else had been to the barn."

"How do you know?"

"Because the only way to get in was through the front door. Phebe and Isabel were in plain sight of that, all the morning, and they saw no one but Billy go there."

Theodora's lips closed stubbornly, and her eyes, as they met those of her father, flashed with defiance. When at last she spoke, her manner was respectful, but her voice had an odd, metallic ring.

"And so Billy must have done it. What do you suppose he did to Vigil?"

"She was poisoned," the doctor answered briefly, for the subject was as painful to him as to his daughter.

"Do you think he did it on purpose?" Theodora's tone was hostile.

"Teddy!"

"Well, I know," she said passionately, for her self-control had been exhausted during the past half-hour; "but you might as well say he gave the horse poison out of spite as to say he did it at all. It's so like Billy to go meddling with what doesn't belong to him. It's so like him to lie about it afterwards. Papa McAlister, Billy Farrington doesn't lie, and he has said to you over and over again that he had nothing to do with it!"

"But Phebe says—"

"Phebe!" Theodora's voice was expressive. "You believe her above Billy?"

"Teddy, dear," the doctor's voice was very low and sorrowful; "don't make it harder for me than you can help. I have loved Billy like my own boy, and I have believed in his honor as I have in Hu's; but I have found something that tells the story. Down in the hay in Vigil's manger, I found this bottle." He held it up as he spoke, and Theodora read the label. "It is what Billy uses for his pictures; no one else touches the stuff."

"And you think he put it there?"

"Accidentally. He may have dropped it, you know, as he went in. Of course, he didn't mean to be careless, and when I first spoke to him about it, he probably didn't know. I could have forgiven the accident; but when I showed him the bottle, and he lied about it to save himself—" Dr. McAlister paused.

At sight of the overwhelming testimony of the bottle, Theodora had dropped down into a chair. Now she sprang up again.

"I'll never believe it as long as I live, bottle or no bottle!" she said violently. "It is mean and cruel and abominable to lay it to Billy Farrington; and I will never believe he had anything to do with it till he says he had. I never thought you'd treat a guest in your own house like this, Papa McAlister. You can everyone of you go back on him, if you want. I intend to stand by him." She gave a nod of emphasis to her words; then, bursting into tears, she banged the door and rushed away to Billy.

She found him in his room, sitting by the window and trying to read. He looked pale and worried, for it had been impossible for him to blind himself to the attitude of the family towards him during the past three days. Hope and Hubert were scrupulously polite, with a frigid, remote courtesy which was worse than open hostility; Phebe avoided him as if he had the plague; and Allyn showed a marked inclination to converse about the present state of affairs which was scarcely soothing to Billy's irritated nerves. After the first day, he had remained most of the time in his own room, whither Theodora followed him and insisted upon admission.

"What do you care if they do act like idiots?" she demanded fiercely. "I'm ashamed of them all, utterly ashamed; but I wouldn't care."

"Yes, you would," he returned drearily. "It's no fun to be sent to Coventry like this, Ted. I wish Hope and Hu would speak out, and have it over with. I'd like a chance to defend myself; but, if this keeps on, I shall begin to think I did do it."

"Haven't you any idea?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"No."

"Honestly? You're not trying to shield some one?"

"I'm not in a Sunday-school book," he returned. "Besides, who is there?"

"Somebody. You didn't do it. Oh, Billy, I wish I were good for anything!"

"You're pretty much all there is, Ted. Perhaps, when your mother comes, it won't be so bad."

She came, the next evening, escorted by Archie, who looked white and thin, but otherwise appeared like his usual self. Theodora felt that his coming brought a whiff of fresher air into the sultry life of the family circle. He was so gay, so full of the breezy atmosphere of the western mountains, that his coming seemed to scatter a little the clouds which had gathered; while his honest, kindly face made her feel, as it had done before, that he was a friend to be trusted.

The doctor had met the travellers at the station, and Theodora knew that they were in possession of the story long before they reached the house. It was impossible from Mrs. McAlister's manner to read her decision in regard to the rights of the case. She met Billy as cordially as ever, when he came down to supper; and during the meal she forced him to take an active part in the conversation. As soon as they left the table, Billy turned away and went to his room. A moment later, she tapped on his door.

"Come in," he said, for he supposed it was Theodora.

She came in and sat down beside him.

"Billy, my boy," she said gently; "tell me all about it, as if I were your own mother."

He looked up, and something in the expression of his blue eyes reminded her of a hunted animal.

"What is there to tell?"

"There ought to be a great deal," she said, smiling faintly. She was startled at the change in the boy, at his pallor and at the listlessness which pervaded his whole being.

"But Dr. McAlister has told you."

"Yes; but not all." She paused expectantly.

He misunderstood the pause. As if goaded to desperation, he turned on her.

"Are you going back on me, too, Mrs. McAlister? I thought you would stand my friend."

"I do."

"But you doubt my word?"

She was silent, unable to say yes or no.

He changed the form of his question.

"Do you believe me?"

"Billy, dear, I don't know what to think."

He shook back his hair impatiently.

"That's it. I'm not used to having my word doubted, and—it hurts."

Meanwhile, Theodora and Hubert were in the hall.

"Where are you going, Ted?" Hubert had asked, as they left the table.

"To Billy."

"I should think you might stay here, to-night, when Archie has just come."

"Archie has you and Hope."

"But it's not decent, Ted, to leave him."

"It's not decent to send Billy off by himself," she retorted.

"Who sends him?"

"All of you."

"He needn't sulk like a baby."

"It isn't sulking, Hu. I'd go off and not stay with people who doubt my word."

"Hm! He needn't lie, then."

Theodora faced him angrily.

"Shame, Hu! How do you know he lies? Is this the way you stand by your friends?"

"He is no friend of mine."

"He was. He is my friend now, as much as ever."

Hubert shrugged his shoulders.

"Girls always are sentimental, and your head is full of yarns, Ted. You are welcome to believe your Billy as much as you want to. Nobody else does."

"I do." And Archie came striding into the hall. "I didn't mean to listen to you; but I couldn't help hearing. I know something of men. I haven't roughed it all this time for nothing, and I've seen all kinds. You will never make me believe that Will Farrington has lied to get himself out of a scrape. I'd sooner think that Allyn himself did it. Billy is a good fellow, and I'll stand by him and see fair play. Here's my hand on it, Ted."

There was a manly ring to Archie's words and a hearty grip of his hand, and they sent Theodora to bed happier than she had been for days. It had been impossible for her to throw off Billy's trouble. The whole atmosphere of the house had seemed to be tainted by it. They all felt the weight of uncertainty and gloom more or less; but for Theodora, loyal to Billy as a girl could be, it amounted to a species of torture, and she felt an Ishmael indeed, with every man's hand against her. She never thought of swerving from her allegiance, however. Alone and unaided, she would fight for Billy against the world. Still, it was very good to find that Archie was upon her side.

"If I could only go away somewhere!" Billy said disconsolately, the next night. "I thought your mother would stand by me, but she doesn't. It's awful to be here in your house, when you are all down on me like this."

"I wish your mother would come home," Theodora responded.

"She won't."

"Not if she knew?"

"She couldn't very well. Besides, what good could she do?"

"Everything. She'd believe you."

"Of course."

"That's something, and she'd find out, somehow or other. Send for her, Billy."

"No; she'd only worry. She'll be home before long."

"Not for two weeks. We shall all be dead by that time."

"I wish I could go to her."

"Why don't you?" she asked impulsively.

His smile was very sad, as he pointed to his crutches.

"I'm not up to a journey like that, Ted. I shouldn't make much of a figure, travelling alone."

"I'll go, myself, and bring her home."

"You can't. You're too young to take such a journey alone, Ted. It's good of you to think of it, but it wouldn't do. No; we'll stick it out somehow. It isn't as bad as if you weren't here to stand up for me."

She rose and stood beside him, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"It's not much I can do, Billy; but I'm bound to do something. My whole family appear to have gone mad over that old horse. I can't help their stupidity; but maybe I can help you out a very little. Whatever I do, remember what I said, only a few days ago, that I'd like the chance to fight for you, to show that I'm a friend in something besides words."

He looked up at her gratefully.

"You are a plucky champion, Teddy. I wish I knew what to do, myself; but they seem to have me on all sides. No matter; with you and Archie to back me up, I'll manage to pull through somehow."

She patted his shoulder encouragingly.

"That's right. Keep up your pluck, Billy. Something can be done about it, I know. You can furnish the brains and I the backbone. Good-night, old boy."

She went away to her own room, but not to bed. For two hours, she could be heard moving stealthily to and fro, opening a closet door, closing a bureau drawer. Once the floor creaked softly, and a door latch clicked. Then silence fell again, and no one was the wiser for Theodora's sleeplessness.

She was late in appearing at the breakfast table, the next morning. Mrs. McAlister rang the bell for a third time. Then she sent Phebe to call her sister. A moment later, Phebe came flying back, with staring eyes.

"Oh, mamma," she panted; "Teddy isn't anywhere! She didn't answer, so I opened the door. The room is empty, and the bed hasn't been slept in at all."