Part 28 (1/2)

”He does not mean it, Davie!” he cried. ”Papa knows you never could have done such a thing. Don't be angry, old fellow.”

And then he put out his hand to clasp David's, and missed it partly because of their natural dimness and partly because of the tears that rushed to them. David regarded him in dismay.

”Are they so bad as that, Frank? Are they worse again?” said David, forgetting his own trouble in the heavier trouble of his friend. They were bad enough, and there was more wrong with the boy besides his eyes.

He was ill and weak, and he burst out crying, with his head on David's shoulder, but his tears were not for himself.

”You were wrong to come out to-day, Frank,” said his father, surprised and perplexed at his sudden break-down; ”you must go home immediately.”

”Papa, tell Davie that you do not believe he took the money,” cried the boy. ”He _could_ not do it, papa.”

”Indeed, I did not, sir,” said David. ”I know nothing about the matter except what Mr Caldwell has told me. You may believe me, sir.”

”I do not know what to believe,” said Mr Oswald. ”It seems unlikely that you should be tempted to do so foolish and wrong a thing. But I have been deceived many a time. Who could have taken it?”

”It was not I,” said David, quietly, and while he said it he was conscious of a feeling of thankfulness that he had not seen Mr Oswald in the first angry moment after he had known of his suspicion. An angry denial, he felt now, would have availed little.

”Papa, begin at the beginning and tell Davie all about it. Perhaps he will think of something you have forgotten--something that may help you to find out where the money has gone,” said Frank, earnestly.

But Mr Oswald would do nothing of the sort. He was tired and perplexed with the matter, and he had come to the determination to pay the lost money, and wait till time should throw light on the circ.u.mstances of its loss, or until the guilty person should betray himself.

”You must go, Frank. You are not fit to be here,” said he.

”I want to hear you tell Davie that you don't believe he is a thief.”

A thief! That is a very ugly word, and David winced as it was spoken.

Mr Oswald winced too.

”Money has been taken from this room, and until the manner of its disappearance be discovered, all who had access to the place must, in a sense, be open to suspicion. Let us hope that the guilty person will be found out, and in the meantime, let nothing more be said about it.”

”But why did you not tell me at once that you suspected me?” said David, in some excitement.

”It was not a pleasant thing to tell.”

”No, but it is not pleasanter to hear it now. There is less chance that the guilty person may be traced now, than if the loss had been declared at once. And must I lie under the suspicion always? I do not think you have been just to me.”

”That will do. The less said the better,” said Mr Oswald. ”Frank, you must go home.”

”You will not go away, Davie?” said Frank.

”Not if I may stay. Where could I go?” said David.

”You will stay, of course. Let us hope the truth about this unpleasant business may come out at last. We must all be uncomfortable until it does.”

”If you had only spoken to David about it sooner,” said Frank, again.

But Mr Oswald would neither say nor hear more. Entreated by Frank, however, he asked David to go and stay at his house, till his mother returned home. But David refused to go even for a day, and no entreaties of Frank could move him.

”I don't wonder that you will not come,” said Frank. ”I don't blame you for refusing. And oh! what will Aunt Mary think of us all?”