"I haven't told a fib for ages," Edgar said in a shamed tone, "not since that Sunday when I said I hadn't been smoking when I had. I don't think there's much harm in pretending."
"Oh, but there is! It's making people believe what isn't true," Roger said earnestly. "I wish you wouldn't do it, because, besides its being wrong, one never knows when to believe you or not."
Edgar thought over all his cousin had said after he had parted from him, and wished he had never pretended the coins were his own. He was growing to like Roger more and more, and was wishful to stand well in his estimation; he admired him for the very qualities he lacked himself—truth and unselfishness. Roger was a great favourite at school with both the masters and the boys, for, though he was certainly hot-tempered, he was not unforgiving, as Edgar had proved, and he was good-natured and obliging; whereas, his cousin—who had plenty of pocket-money and was known to be the son of the richest merchant in Beaworthy—was not nearly so well liked, simply because he always tried to please himself first and had never been known to put himself out of the way for anybody. It was a mark in Edgar's favour, however, that he was not jealous of Roger's popularity. When the cousins had first been thrown together at school, the rich man's son had been inclined to patronise his poor relation, but he never tried to do so now—perhaps because he was beginning to recognise his own inferiority.
Immediately on his arrival at the Rookery, Edgar hastened to the study, but to his disappointment he found his father there writing letters.
"Well, my son, what do you want?" Mr. Marsh inquired, glancing around sharply, for he was undesirous of interruption.
"Nothing, father."
"Well, then, run away. I'm busy."
Edgar needed no second bidding; but he was sorry he could not then replace the Calais Noble in the cabinet, for the fact of its being in his possession weighed upon his mind. After he had had tea he went to the nursery, where he usually prepared his lessons, and set to work to learn them; but whilst in the midst of that task his attention was diverted by voices in the garden, and, going to the window, he saw his father join his mother on a garden seat under a laburnum tree at a short distance from the house. Now was the time to return the Calais Noble, he thought, for Mr. Marsh had no doubt left his keys in the study—he was never very careful of them. Reflecting thus, Edgar thrust his hand into the depths of his trousers pocket where he had put the coin, but, to his astonishment and alarm, he could not feel it.
Hastily he turned out the contents of his pocket—a pen-knife, an end of pencil, a piece of string, and the sticky remains of a packet of caramels—but the Calais Noble was gone.
"I can't have lost it!" he gasped. "Yes, I have—I must have! Oh, what shall I do? It's really, really gone!"