"Fivepence-farthing!" cried David. "You thief, you!"
The child's fists were clenched, and his young face all one scowl of passion, quite shocking to see. His father put him aside, and said, "Hush, David! no names.--Now, Henry, what do you say to your sister for your false accusation, which has thrown your own shame on her?"
"Oh, no, no, Papa; he never did accuse me!" cried Bessie, for the first time bursting into tears. "He never said I did it; that was only Davie's fancy; and it has made Susie and Sam so kind, I have not minded it at all. Please don't mind that, Papa!"
"Come away, Henry!" said the Captain; "now that your sister has been cleared, we had better have the rest out of the sight of these tender-hearted little girls."
He stood up, and without a word, stroked down Elizabeth's smooth brown hair, raised her face up by the chin, and kissed her forehead, the only place free from tears; then he took Henry by the shoulder, and marched him out of the room. Bessie could not stop herself from crying, and was afraid of letting Uncle John see her; so she flew out after them, and straight up-stairs to her own room. Miss Fosbrook and Susan both longed to follow her, but they had missed this opportunity; and the sound of voices outside showed so plainly that the Captain and Henry were in the hall that they durst not open the door.
Everyone was appalled, and nothing was said for a few seconds. The first to speak was Annie, in a low, terror-stricken whisper, yet with some curiosity in it: "I wonder what Papa will do to him?"
"Give him nine dozen, I hope!" answered David through his small white teeth, all clenched together with rage.
"For shame, Davie!" said Susan; "you should not wish anything so dreadful for your brother."
"He has been so wicked! I wish it! I WILL wish it!" said David.
"Hush, David!" said Miss Fosbrook; "such things must not be said. I will talk to you by and by."
"I am glad poor Bessie is cleared!" added Susan; "though I always knew she could not have done it."
"To be sure--I knew it was Hal!"
"Sam! you did?--why didn't you tell?" cried Annie.
"I wasn't--to say--sure," said Sam; "and I couldn't go and get him into a scrape. I thought he might tell himself, if he could ever make up the money again!"
"Yes," said Susan; "he would have done that. He always fancied he should get a sovereign from Colonel Carey."
"He talked till he thought so," said Sam.
"But what made you guess he had done so, Sam?" said Miss Fosbrook. "I did suspect him myself, but I never felt justified in accusing him of such a thing."
"I don't know! I saw he had been getting into a fix with those Grevilles, and had been sold somehow. They said something, and got out of my way directly, and I was sure they had done some mischief, and left him to pay the cost."
"Did you ask him?" said Susan.
"What was the use? One never knows where to have him. He will eat up his words as fast as he says them, with his AT LEAST, till he doesn't know what he means. Nor I didn't want to know much of it."
"Still I can't think how you could let poor Bessie live under such a cloud," said Christabel.
"You didn't believe it," said Sam, "nor anyone worth a snap of my finger. Besides, if I had known, and had to tell, what a horrid shame it would have been if the naval cadetship had been to be had for him! I knew Bessie would have thought so too, and then he would have been out of the way of the Grevilles, and would have got some money to make it up."
"Then is there no chance of the cadetship now?"
"Oh, we should have heard of it long ago if there had been! So I mind the coming out the less; but it's perfectly abominable to have had all this row, and for Papa to be so cut up in this little short time at home."
"I never saw him more grieved," said Mr. Merrifield. "He was hardly more overcome when your mother was at the worst."
They started, for they had forgotten Uncle John, or they would never have spoken so freely; but he now put down his newspaper, and looked as if he meant to talk.
Susan ventured to say, "And indeed they had all been so very good before. The pig made them so."
"A learned pig, I should think," said her uncle, laughing good- naturedly.
"We were obliged to take care," said Susan, "or we got so many fines."
Christabel, finding that Mr. Merrifield looked at her, helped out Susan by explaining that various small delinquencies were visited with fines, and that the desire to save for the pig had rendered the children very careful.
"Indeed," she said, "I was thankful for the incentive, but I am afraid that it was over-worked, and did harm in the end:" and she glanced towards David.
"It is the way with secondary motives," was the answer.
Here Captain Merrifield came back alone; and his brother was the only person who ventured to say, "Well?"
"I have sent him to his room," said the Captain. "It is a very bad business, though of course he made excuses to himself."
The Captain then told them Henry's confession. He had been too much hurried by the fear of being caught, to take out his own share of the hoard, and had therefore emptied the whole cupful into his pocket- handkerchief, tied it up, and run off with it, intending to separate what was honestly his own. What that was he did not know, but his boastful habits and want of accuracy had made his memory so careless, that he fancied that a far larger proportion was his than really was, and his purposes were in the strange medley that falls to the lot of all self-deceivers, sometimes fancying he would only take what he had a right to (whatever that might be), sometimes that he would borrow what he wanted, and replace it when the sovereign should be given to him, or that the Grevilles would make it up when they had their month's allowance.
When he came to the farm Mr. Grice was resolved to take nothing less than the whole sum that he had with him. Perhaps this was less for the value of the turkey-cock than for the sake of giving the boys such a lesson as to prevent them from ever molesting his poultry again. At any rate, he was inexorable till the frightened Henry had delivered up every farthing in his possession; and then, convinced that no more was forthcoming, he relented so far as to restore the gun, and promise to make no complaint to either of the fathers.
At first Henry lived on hopes of being able to restore the money before the hoard should be examined, but Colonel Carey went away, and, as might have been expected, left no present to his brother's pupils. Still Henry had hopes of the Grevilles, and even when the loss was discovered, hoped to restore it secretly, and make the whole pass off as a joke; but the 1st of August came, Martin and Osmond received their pocket-money, but laughed his entreaty to scorn, telling him that he had shot the turkey-cock, not they. Since that time, his only hope had been in the affair blowing over--as if a sin ever DID blow over!
"One question I must ask, Miss Fosbrook," said the Captain, "though after such a course of deceit it hardly makes it worse. Has he told any direct falsehood?"
She paused, and recollected. "Yes, Sir," she said, "I am afraid he did; he flatly told me that he had not touched the baby-house."
"I expected nothing else," said the Captain gravely. "What has become of Bessie?"
"She ran up-stairs. May I go and call her?" said Susan.
"I will go myself," said her father.
He found Elizabeth in the school-room, all flushed and tear-stained in the face; and he told her affectionately how much pleased he was with her patience under this false accusation. Delight very nearly set her off crying again, but she managed to say, "It was Miss Fosbrook and Sam and Susie that made me patient, Papa; they were so kind. And nobody would have believed it, if I wasn't always cross, you know."
"Not cross now, my little woman," he said smiling.
"Oh! I said I never could be cross again, now Mamma is better; but Miss Fosbrook says I shall sometimes feel so, and I do believe she is right, for I was almost cross to Georgie to-day. But she says one may FEEL cross, and not BE cross!"