“And by some means a key got into the locker of my organ-loft.”
“Yes!”
“And it was found by the vicar, who cruelly wrongs me with his suspicions.”
“Yes!”
“And I am accused, and dismissed from my post.”
“Well!”
“What shall I do? Help me with your advice. How am I to prove my innocence? What is best for me to do under the circumstances? I feel my head confused, and am at a loss how to proceed, for I cannot let it be known at home. The vicar seems to be so convinced of my guilt that he refuses to see me, and returns my letters. All I get from the churchwarden when I assert my innocence is, ‘Prove it, sir, prove it.’ I have thought by day and by night. I have struggled hard—I have done all that a man can do, but I am as far off as ever. I was not born, Dick, with your business head—I’m not clever. You know that I never was, and now I have turned to you—”
“To mix myself up in the affair?” said Richard, coldly.
“No, no; to advise me—to tell me what I should do,” said Jared.
“Who committed the theft?” said Richard, scowling.