"I believe your cousins are good-natured children," he said when Edgar had ceased speaking. "Polly is a nice little girl, open as the day; and Roger—by the way, you have not seen much of him these last few weeks, have you?"
"No, father."
"How is that?"
"He—he avoids me," Edgar admitted, not explaining that that was his fault.
"Avoids you, eh? Why?"
"I don't know."
"I thought you were going to be friends." There was a decidedly troubled expression on Mr. Marsh's face, and he was so taken up with his own thoughts that he did not notice how guilty Edgar was looking.
By this time they had reached the town, and, shortly after passing the Grammar School, they overtook Roger himself on his way home. The little boy lifted his cap to his uncle, whilst a smile lit up his face; and Mr. Marsh asked himself if the owner of such a bright, frank countenance could possibly have robbed him of the missing coin. It seemed incredible, and yet his suspicion of his nephew was very strong.
"Roger is generally liked at school, is he not?" he asked. "He holds a good character, eh?"
"Oh yes," Edgar responded earnestly. "All the masters like him, and so do the boys."