Part 13 (1/2)

”Did you find it on the floor?”

”No.”

”Where then?”

”Dey was all in nice itty rows on the table. I only taken one pitty goldy penny. Mummy gives me goldy pennies always.”

”Sovereigns for playthings, Renata. That's very immoral.”

”No, only new halfpennies. Charlotte didn't know any better, Aymer.”

”And you played with it in the window there and left it there.”

”Is I naughty?”

”Not very naughty--if you tell me. Did you leave it there?”

Charlotte's lip trembled. ”I putted it to bed in the curtain by a mousehole, and it's all gone, naughty mousie.”

”Go and see, Renata, if there's a hole there.”

”Please,” said Charlotte gravely.

”Please what?”

”Please go and see.”

Aymer laughed. ”I beg your pardon, Renata. Please will you mind looking for the mousehole?”

”I tan't see the mousehole,” put in Charlotte, ”I only 'tend it.”

But Renata looked all the same. There was no mousehole and no golden penny.

”It is all right,” explained Aymer in answer to his sister-in-law's troubled look. ”I know all about it. Don't worry your little head. We will give Charlotte another golden penny, or a silver one. Only,” he added, regarding his small niece severely, ”Charlotte must not touch anyone's pennies again, not mummy's or Uncle Aymer's, or anyone's. It is not dreadfully naughty this time, but it would be next time--_dreadfully_ naughty.”

Charlotte opened her eyes very wide.

”Would you be dreffly angry?”

”Yes, and very unhappy. I shouldn't let you come to see me any more.”

At that Miss Charlotte flung her arms round his neck, protesting she wasn't naughty and Uncle Aymer must love her. Peace was at last restored and Aymer drew pictures of innumerable mice carrying off golden pennies and only sent the children away when Christopher came in.

He gave no hint to Christopher that he had solved the problem of the lost money and discovered the boy's own compromise between truth and dishonesty. He was anxious to see whether Christopher's moral standard was really satisfied with the same compromise or not. So he treated him as far as he could in his natural manner during the next few days, but found it a little difficult. Fond of Christopher as he was, this was just one of those points where the enormous difference between the child of one's own self,--of self plus the unknown--and the adopted child of others, became visible. The fault was so inexplicable to Aymer, so utterly foreign to his whole understanding, that he had nothing but contempt for it, whereas, had Christopher been his own son, love would have overridden contempt with fear.

Christopher, with his uncanny, quick intuition of Aymer's innermost mind, was not deceived by his ordinary casual manner, and became, to Aymer's secret satisfaction, a little suppressed and thoughtful.

It was at this point the boy had his first introduction to poor little Patricia's temper.

The two children had been riding and returned home by way of the brook over which their ambitious dreams had already built a bridge.

Patricia, who was in rather a petulant mood, reproached Christopher rather sharply for having got rid of his last month's pocket money so prematurely. ”Just like a boy,” she said, wrinkling her nose contemptuously. She had five whole s.h.i.+llings left of her money and when Christopher could double that they were to go to the brick-yard and bargain.