XXV
THE SUMMER’S HARVEST
“Well, Brenda,” said Julia, when they had walked a short distance from the house. “How do you enjoy being a detective?”
“Well, I did n’t detect so very much, did I? But really I feel relieved that that pleasant Portuguese of ours is n’t Miguel Silva. If it had n’t been for Mrs. Moriarty, I should hardly have been able to believe the story about the twins. Why, it’s one of the strangest things that I ever knew.”
By this time the situation had been explained to Amy, who hitherto had not fully understood it.
“There’s one thing,” she said. “It may some time be possible for Luis Silva to recover part of that money from his brother, and return it to Mrs. Rosa.”
“Why, yes,” responded Brenda, “I ’ll get papa to talk to him about it. Poor Mrs. Silva! About the only good that I have ever done with my camera was to take those pictures of her little boy. It’s strange that she never had any taken herself. I’ve promised to send her half a dozen more. Well, now that I have Derby Street off my mind, what are we to see next?”
“Why, Hawthorne’s birthplace, I suppose,” replied Amy. “It is not very far from here, and the house of the seven gables, if you feel like walking to it.”
