Chapter 9

"I have seen him go in three times. And once I saw him walking with that shopgirl, very early by the church. She had a basket. She buys wool every Saturday at the market, you know. The cheap stuff in a big bag. I always wondered what a shopgirl wanted with so much wool."Mrs. Pratt turned slowly in her chair. Her face went the color of cold milk. She understood. All at once, she understood everything.And Mrs. Pratt was not a woman who lost.That same afternoon, she went to see Mr. Pike. Mr. Pike was a small, nervous man who owned the hat shop and owed money to half the town. Mrs. Pratt and her friends bought more hats from him than anyone in Millbrook."Mr. Pike," she said sweetly, "I am afraid there is a thief in your shop.""A thief, madam?""That girl, Ward. I have reason to think she has been taking money from your till for years to buy all that wool." She smiled. "Of course, if you do not deal with it, I could not let my friends shop here anymore. None of us. You do see?"Mr. Pike saw. He was a weak man and a frightened one, and he saw very well.The next morning, Mr. Pike came into the back room where Lucy was working. Two silver coins lay in the bottom of her sewing basket—coins she had never seen before. Mrs. Pratt's maid had been in the shop the day before to collect a hat."What is this?" said Mr. Pike. He did not look at her."I don't know, Mr. Pike. I have never seen it. You know me—five years I have worked for you, I have never taken a penny!""Then where does the wool come from? Mrs. Pratt says—" He stopped. His face was red. "Get out. Get your things and get out. And don't think it ends here. The constable will hear of it."Lucy did not beg. She climbed the stairs one last time. She packed her needles, her mother's box, and her one other dress. She walked out into the snow with everything she owned in her arms.

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