"Good!" he said.
"Why, George, how can you say that? They've ruined our boy."
Mrs. Nelson was taking it badly.
"Tut tut," said her husband, kindly, "don't get all worked up about it. He'll come around. There'll be an explanation from him some of these days. Jerusalem! but I'm glad he's out of it. I knew he'd get a lesson. Blast the banks!"
After this mild explosion Nelson walked to the water-pail and drank a dipper of water.
"But what's he doing in Hamilton?" asked the mother.
"That's only a fifty-cent trip from Toronto," answered Nelson; "the lad was probably over for a boat-ride."
"Well, what's he doing now?"
"I've got no more idea than you have, Carrie. But he won't do anything desperate, be sure of that. If he gets down-and-out he knows we're here."
At last Mrs. Nelson was consoled. She made her husband wire Evan at Toronto to come home. The telegraph operator surmised enough from the telegram to invent a story; it was supplemented by whisperings from Mt. Alban; and eventually the town gabs were wondering where Evan could have deposited the $50,000 he stole.