David drew himself suddenly erect. His eyes flashed.
"I don't know, sir. But I do know this: he didn't STEAL it!"
Across the table Mrs. Holly drew a quick breath, but she did not speak—save with her pleading eyes. Mrs. Holly seldom spoke—save with her eyes—when her husband was solving a knotty problem. She was dumfounded now that he should listen so patiently to the man, Larson,—though she was not more surprised than was Larson himself. For both of them, however, there came at this moment a still greater surprise. Simeon Holly leaned forward suddenly, the stern lines quite gone from his lips, and his face working with emotion as he drew David toward him.
"You're a good son, boy,—a good loyal son; and—and I wish you were mine! I believe you. He didn't steal it, and I won't steal it, either. But I will use it, since you are so good as to offer it. But it shall be a loan, David, and some day, God helping me, you shall have it back. Meanwhile, you're my boy, David,—my boy!"
"Oh, thank you, sir," rejoiced David. "And, really, you know, being wanted like that is better than the start would be, isn't it?"
"Better than—what?"
David shifted his position. He had not meant to say just that.
"N—nothing," he stammered, looking about for a means of quick escape. "I—I was just talking," he finished. And he was immeasurably relieved to find that Mr. Holly did not press the matter further.