“Detected in stealing money!” ejaculated Mrs. Briggs, triumphantly. “Just what I predicted all along. I am not often deceived about character.”
“I never heard you predict it, mother,” said Randolph.
“It was only because I did not like to speak against the boy,” said Mrs. Briggs, only slightly discomfited. “I read it in his face the first day he came here. I saw he was sly and underhanded.”
“Well, I didn’t,” said Randolph, who was less malignant than his mother. “I never thought he would do such a thing. I didn’t like him, of course, but still I thought he was honest.”
“I have lived longer in the world than you, Randolph,” said Mrs. Briggs, sagaciously, “and I know that appearances are deceitful. I am not so easily taken in as your father. He has been infatuated about this disreputable boy. I hope the knowledge of the boy’s baseness will cure him.”
“I suppose we needn’t invite Gilbert to my party, now?”
“No, of course not,” said Mrs. Briggs, with emphasis. “It would be an insult to you to invite a boy convicted of theft.”
“Father may insist upon it,” said Randolph.
“Not unless he is bereft of his senses,” said Mrs. Briggs. “He has made a point of it till now; but, of course, this will change his wishes.”
Randolph did not reply; but, notwithstanding his mother’s assurance, he felt some doubts on the subject. His father was, in general, yielding and easily managed; but, as is often the case with such men, he was, at times, unexpectedly firm.