“Don’t you hear?” whispered Jem. “Be off!”
The little woman gave him an angry look, and then hurried from the office, looking put out and hurt.
“This money must be found,” said Uncle Josiah sternly, as soon as they were alone. “You are sure that you have seen no more, Lindon?”
“Quite, uncle. I’m sorry I forgot about the guinea I found.”
“Yes!” said Uncle Josiah, giving him a quick searching look. “You are quite certain, Wimble?”
“Me, sir? Oh, yes; I’m moral sartain.”
“I should be sorry to suspect any one, and behave unjustly, but I must have this matter cleared up. Michael Bannock is away, and I cannot conceive his being absent without money, unless he is ill. Wimble, go and see.”
“Yes, sir,” said the yard-man, with alacrity; and he went off shaking his head, as if all this was a puzzle beyond his capacity to comprehend.
“You had better go to your desk, Lindon,” said Uncle Josiah, coldly.
Don started, and mounted his stool, but he could not write. His brain was confused; and from time to time he glanced at the stern-looking old merchant, and tried to grasp his thoughts. “Surely uncle can’t suspect me—surely he can’t suspect me!” he found himself saying again, and the trouble seemed to increase till he felt as if he must speak out and say how sorry he was that he had picked up the money and forgotten all about it, when Jem returned.