“Give them back to me!” said the old man, imploringly. “I—I am so poor. It will kill me if I lose my money.”
“Two savings bank books, indade!” said Mrs. Hogan. “It’s my belafe you’re an ould humbug, you that have always called yourself so poor. And how much money was there in them?” she asked.
“I—I—no matter. Give me the books, or I’ll send for the police.”
“Go and welcome, this minute, if you please. You ought to know better than to call an honest woman a thafe.”
“Somebody has taken the books,” wailed Jerry.
“Very likely Paul’s taken care of them for you. He was here alone with the clothes.”
“Where is Paul?” demanded Jerry, with peevish eagerness.
“He’s at his work, but I’m expecting him back every minute. If he has taken the books, they are all right. Paul’s an honest boy, and a fine boy.”
“Do you think he would rob me, Mrs. Hogan?” asked Jerry, piteously.