“Yes, sir, he did,” said Dawkins, anxious to fix in Mr. Danforth's mind the impression of Paul's guilt.
“Then I am afraid it is true,” said his employer sadly. “And yet, what a fine, manly boy he is too. But it is a terrible fault.”
Mr. Danforth was essentially a kind-hearted man, and he cared much more for Paul's dereliction from honesty than for the loss of the money. Going home early to dinner, he communicated to his wife the unpleasant discovery which he had made respecting Paul.
Now, from the first, Paul had been a great favorite with Mrs. Danforth, and she scouted at the idea of his dishonesty.
“Depend upon it, Mr. Danforth,” she said decisively, “you have done the boy an injustice. I have some skill in reading faces, and I tell you that a boy with Paul Prescott's open, frank expression is incapable of such a crime.”
“So I should have said, my dear, but we men learn to be less trustful than you ladies, who stay at home and take rose-colored views of life. Unfortunately, we see too much of the dark side of human nature.”
“So that you conclude all to be dark.”
“Not so bad as that.”
“Tell me all the circumstances, and perhaps a woman's wit may help you.”
Mr. Danforth communicated all the details, with which the reader is already familiar.