Julia's Last Hope by Janette Oke Page A

remark, perhaps remembering that a lady was present. Then he confronted Julia. “You really knew nothing of this?” he quizzed.
    “No, I had no idea. They didn’t say—I mean, he said they would stay until—”
    “Well, I guess I’ll just have to accept your word,” he interrupted, implying that he still doubted her.
    “My word can be taken,” she said firmly. “God has set a standard. We are not to lie—even to protect someone—someone we have grown fond of. I tell you the truth, Mr.—Mr.—”
    “Is there any place you know of where they might be?”
    “No,” said Julia.
    “No place where they liked to go?”
    “No.”
    “Is there any way out of this town?”
    “Just the railroad.”
    “When did the last train go through?”
    “Why, it was the one you arrived on, I believe,” answered Julia.
    The man looked surprised. Then he mumbled something Julia couldn’t understand. She guessed they were more words he didn’t want her to hear.
    “Slipped out right under our noses,” he growled.
    Julia turned to hide the relief in her eyes. Then she noticed something on the dresser. She crossed the room and picked it up. It was a letter addressed to her.
Dear Mrs. Harrigan,
          You have been most kind to Margaret and me, and I am sorry we cannot stay as long as planned.
          I have left the amount we owe you in the top drawer of this dresser. I have also left what I believe is an appropriate amount for the picture from the hallway.
    Julia’s eyes widened, but she said nothing to the man standing behind her. She read on.
      Margaret found it so restful. I could not deny her the privilege of ownership. I do hope you understand.
          I have also left money for some provisions. We made a lunch for ourselves from your kitchen pantry, not wishing to bother any of the household.
               Again, thank you for your kindness.
               James W. Williams, Esq.
    When Julia looked up she realized the man had been reading over her shoulder.
    “So they stole—”
    “They did not,” cut in Julia. “They paid for—for everything.”
    The man turned and left the room without another word to Julia. The next time she heard him speak it was to his companion, who apparently had been stationed at the open door. “Let’s get going” he said, “before the trail gets cold.”
    Julia shuddered. Such a foolish way to talk. I think he’s been reading too many cheap who-done-its.
    Julia knew she should bid her uninvited guests good-day, but she turned instead to the drawer mentioned in the letter and opened it slowly.
    A neat pile of bills was tucked in one corner. Julia lifted them. Little slips of paper were bundled with the bills, held by small clips. The first one said, “Board and room, five days, two people.” Julia counted the money. The payment was exact. The next one said, “Lunch payment.” Julia counted again, finding that the amount was more than ample. “My! I wonder if he emptied the whole cupboard,” she exclaimed. The last bundle said, “Painting.” When Julia counted the money she determined that Mr. Williams had indeed been generous.
    “The poor dears,” she cried. “The poor, poor dears.”
    Julia heard stirring behind her and turned her head. Hettie stood there, her eyes filled with questions.
    “Who were those men?” Hettie began. “I saw them leaving the house, waving their arms and turning the air blue with their talk. I was scared that—”
    “They were from some asylum,” Julia explained.
    “Asylum?” Hettie gasped.
    Julia nodded.
    “What did they want with you?” asked Hettie, still stunned.
    “No—no. Not me. Them.” Julia waved a hand toward the vacant room.
    “Them?” Hettie exclaimed, following Julia’s gaze. “Them? Why?”
    “They—they escaped.”
    “Escaped?”
    Julia began to laugh helplessly. She waved the money at Hettie and picked up a corner of her apron to wipe her eyes.
    Hettie looked at her, her face