"Because I—well, I didn't get that place at Balling and Feet's and I didn't have the heart to tell you I had failed again. I kept the hill just to deceive you. Heaven is my witness that I intended to pay it back to Joe, but the temptation was too great—I couldn't resist. Don't you understand now, dear? I wanted it for you and Helen; you don't know how I prized it. It meant so much. Why, when I started down town to buy the little dinner that I afterwards tried to steal—"
"From me," she interrupted.
"Yes, from you—I felt so happy in that I was sinning gently for you. Then I missed the bill and—well, the other followed; you know what I mean. You don't think I'm a real thief, do you, Kate?"
"No, no, dear; forgive me!" she cried, with true wifely penitence. "I see it all and I love you for it, better than ever before." She squeezed his arm tightly and squeezed her eyelids vainly. "But you must never do it again," she cautioned, tenderly. He laughed again, that unwilling thief and pauper.
"Oh, by the way, while I think of it, how did you happen to have that ten?" he asked, with cruel glee.
She felt even guiltier than he and her voice was quite feeble as she answered:
"Well, you remember when I was mending your trousers," she began. He gave her arm a tremendous pressure and interrupted:
"But the hole wasn't in the pocket, dear, was it?"
"Oh, you'll forgive me, won't you truly, Digby?" she almost wailed.
"But you were stealing!" he said, solemnly, recalling her condemnatory words.