‘Oh, no one knew!’ she choked out among her sobs; ‘and Mrs. Shepherd—such things!’
Harold stamped his foot, and Mrs. King tried to soothe her. In the midst, she recollected that she could not bear her brothers to guess at the worst part of the ‘such things;’ and recovering herself a moment, she said, ‘No, no, they’ve driven him off! He’s gone, and—and, oh! Mother, Mrs. Shepherd will have it he’s a thief, and—and she says I said so.’
That was bad enough, and Ellen wept bitterly again; while her mother and Harold both cried out with surprise.
‘Yes—but—I did say I dare said he was out of a reformatory—and that she should remember it! Now I’ve taken away his character, and he’s a poor lost boy!’
Oh, idle words! idle words!
CHAPTER IX—ROBBING THE MAIL
There was no helping it! People must have their letters whether Paul Blackthorn were lost or not, and Harold was a servant of the public, and must do his duty, so after some exhortations from his mother, he ruefully rose up, hoping that he should not have to go to Ragglesford.
‘Yes, you will,’ said his mother, ‘and maybe to wait. Here’s a registered letter, and I think there are two more with money in them.’
‘To think,’ sighed Harold, as he mounted his pony, ‘of them little chaps getting more money for nothing, than Paul did in a month by working the skin off his bones!’
‘Don’t be discontented, Harold, on that score. Them little chaps will work hard enough by-and-by: and the money they have now is to train them in making a fit use of it then.’