"Yes, and he gets on much better with the boys at school," said Claude; "he doesn't interfere about matters which don't concern him as he used to. Really, at first Edwin and I were always making up his quarrels; but now he's quite different."
"How is it he and Edwin are so cool to each other?" Dr. Dennis inquired. "It is very apparent that they are not on cordial terms."
"No, they're not," Claude admitted. "I can't make out why they are not, though. I've asked Edwin, and he wouldn't tell; and I've asked Freddy, and he wouldn't tell either, only looked fit to cry."
"He was crying last night in the schoolroom," Poppy informed them gravely; "he was pretending to learn his lessons, but he was crying, I know he was, though when I asked him what was amiss he wouldn't answer."
The truth of the matter was that Freddy was extremely unhappy and dissatisfied with himself. He could not meet the gaze of Edwin's honest eyes without being overcome with shame and remorse. His conscience, now thoroughly awake, tortured him continually, and he told himself that Edwin would never trust him again, for he was conscious his cousin still suspected him of knowing something concerning the loss of the doctor's coat. Often he longed to tell the truth to Edwin, but he could not pluck up sufficient courage to do so.
Meanwhile, Edwin was very unhappy about his cousin, who, he saw, had a trouble upon his mind; but he felt he could not seek his confidence again, for he was quite convinced that Freddy had told him a lie. Sometimes it occurred to him that Freddy might be shielding someone whom he knew to have stolen the coat; but then, who could that someone be? Certainly not either of the servants, who were both trustworthy young women, and there was no one else in the house it was possible to suspect.
Claude and Freddy, who generally returned from school together, kept a look out for the little girl the latter had befriended as they walked home in the afternoons for the next week or two; but they did not see her, and they had nearly dismissed her from their minds when, after more than a fortnight had elapsed, and they had given up all thoughts of meeting her again, they one afternoon recognised her shabby figure ahead of them, and hurried to overtake her.
"I say, how's your brother?" asked Freddy, as he reached her side.
She stopped immediately, her thin face lighting up with a pleased smile, and rested a big brown paper parcel she was carrying against a shop window, as she replied, "He's better; but he's not able to get up yet. Oh, he does so want to thank you for your kindness to him!" she cried, looking with grateful eyes at Freddy. "I took him some sponge cakes and grapes that day you gave me the shilling, and he could eat them. My! I wish you could have seen how he enjoyed the grapes! Would you—it is not far—would you come to see him just for a few minutes?"
The boys glanced doubtfully at each other, and hesitated, noting which the little girl's countenance fell, and she said in a hurt tone of voice, "Perhaps you're too proud to come? But no, I'm sure it's not that! It's a poor place, I know, but it's very clean, and Bobby would so like to see you."