Round Robin by Abbie Farwell Brown — Read

For years Chester F. Poole had been taking the money of other persons to line his own pockets. The savings of the simple people, his neighbors, -- lumbermen, fishermen, farmers and the widows of poor sailors -- had gone into his bank, because they trusted him. And out of this bank he had built his fine houses and paid for his expensive living. Now he was found out; and being a coward he had run away. If the law could catch him he would have to go to prison. But the money was gone and spent; nobody could pay back those too-trusting men and women and little children whom he had ruined. And what was to become of them?

This, in a few words, was what had filled the newspapers with gossip the day before, but which only Tante, Hugh and Victor had happened to see. But after the wild night at the fire it was no longer a secret to anyone. Round Robin was an excited camp the next morning, with so much to talk over. And because Anne was not there they could talk freely, about both the fire and the bank failure. But it was about Anne herself that they were most concerned. Poor Anne! Could anything be more dreadful than to be the daughter of such a man? Poor little Golden Girl, whose gold had all worn off, because it was only cheap gilt after all!