Sudden news, whether it be good or bad, is always a shock; and when Patience Harrison caught the cry repeated by Maggie Chanter, "Jack is come home!" and echoed by little Miss Joy's silvery voice, and old Uncle Bobo's bass, "Jack is come home!" she sank back in the porch and gasped for breath.
Presently the little gate was opened by George Paterson, who hastily asked—
"What is the matter? Jack come home? Well, that's good news."
"Yes," Maggie Chanter said; "but Bet there has some other news, which is not so good. They dare to say Jack stole the cash-box the day he ran off, and they have locked him up."
"But he didn't, he didn't," Bet said, recovering her breath at last. "Here it is; take it to Uncle Joe, and tell him where I found it."
"Yes; take it," said Uncle Bobo; "I'd go myself, only I can't stir my old stumps as fast as you can. Paterson, you are the man for the business."
George Paterson was looking at poor Patience, who seemed utterly overwhelmed with the tidings; and behind her stood old Mrs. Skinner, with her arm round her, letting her head rest against her shoulder.
"There, there," she said, as Patience began to sob convulsively; "there, there, you've naught to cry for. Your boy is come back; and if Bet is to be believed, my son is the thief, not yours. You needn't break your heart. What made you go and look for the box, Bet? What made you think of it?"
"Oh, grannie, I—I saw Uncle Joe bury it in the ground one night! I never knew what it was till I heard a talk about a little box that was lost."
"Well, well, the box is found, and now I am off to bring the boy to his mother. Bet, you come along."