Uncle Jo's Old Coat

by Eleanora H. Stooke

"Then you would certainly have heard if any one had been in the surgery?"

"Oh, yes, Uncle Jo!"

Freddy had come downstairs in a doubtful frame of mind as to whether or not he would be able to pluck up his courage and confess the truth concerning the doctor's coat; but on hearing the amount of money in the pocket-book he had been too frightened to speak out. Afterwards he bitterly regretted having kept silence.

When Edwin and Claude arrived at home they were immediately informed that their father's old overcoat was missing, and joined with the other members of the household in making an exhaustive search from attic to basement, without, of course, any satisfactory result. Freddy wandered aimlessly from room to room with the rest, looking white and miserable, until his aunt sent him back to the dining-room fire. There, by-and-by, Poppy came to hint with the information, given in an awestricken voice, that her father had gone to the police station to tell the police of his loss. This news was an additional cause of alarm to Freddy, who now began to wonder if the police would find the poor bootlace-seller in possession of the overcoat, and charge him with the theft; but even with that thought in his mind he was too great a coward to acknowledge what he had done. He reflected that if he spoke out now, he would be blamed for not having done so at first, so he continued to hold his peace.

"If I told uncle, that would not bring the coat back," he argued with his conscience, which pricked him sorely; "and I don't know the name of the man I gave the coat to, or anything about him. If he is honest he will certainly bring the pocket-book back, and then I shan't mind so much telling uncle, for he will have the money all right."

But the bootlace-seller did not reappear at the doctor's house, and though Freddy kept an anxious look out for him for many days to come, he never caught sight of his tall, gaunt form; and the loss of the coat remained a mystery to all the other members of the household.

One November evening, Mrs. Dennis and the children had drawn their chairs round the sitting-room fire, when Freddy began to talk of Christmas, to which season he was eagerly looking forward, for his father and stepmother proposed being at home by that time.

"I wish you were all going to be at Marldon Court for Christmas," he said, looking affectionately at his aunt and cousins; "what fun we would have! But I suppose Uncle Jo would not be able to leave his practice?"

"No," Mrs. Dennis replied; "and we all like to be together at Christmas time—not that it is ever a very gay season for us, and I expect it will be even quieter than usual this year, for your uncle had to replace those five-pound notes which were lost, or stolen I suppose I should say. He could not tell Mr. Henley they were missing, and he could not keep the poor widow without her money. It has been an unfortunate affair, but one would not mind that so much if it was not still wrapped in mystery. It is unsatisfactory in every way."

Freddy made no response, but his face, which had been very bright as he talked of Christmas, grew overcast. His happiness at the anticipation of the reunion with his father was shadowed by the remembrance of his guilty secret, and he became so wrapped in uneasy thought that he lost a great part of the conversation which followed, until a remark of Claude's brought him out of his reverie with a start.