“What then?” replied I.
“Only Jerry Abershaw, that’s all.”
“Do not be afraid, Tom, it is honestly mine.”
“But how did you get it, Jacob,” said old Tom.
It may appear strange, but, impelled by a wish to serve my friends, I had asked for the money which I knew belonged to me, but never thought of the manner in which it had been obtained. The question of old Tom recalled everything to my memory, and I shuddered when I recollected the circumstances attending it. I was confused, and did not like to reply. “Be satisfied, the money is mine,” replied I.
“Yes, Jacob, but how?” replied Mrs Beazeley; “surely you ought to be able to tell how you got so large a sum.”
“Jacob has some reason for not telling, missus, depend upon it; mayhap Mr Turnbull, or whoever gave it to him, told him to hold his tongue.” But this answer would not satisfy Mrs Beazeley, who declared she would not allow a farthing to be taken unless she knew how it was obtained.
“Tom, give back the money directly,” said she, looking at me suspiciously.
Tom laid it on the table before me, without saying a word.
“Take it, Tom,” said I, colouring up. “I had it from my mother.”