“Well, I had scarcely any. I used to make an odd pound now and then by bringing home work to copy, and Hetty did not lose her situation as teacher. She still went to the school, and she told no one of her marriage. I meant to break it to you all when I began to get my salary, for you know my time of apprenticeship will expire at Christmas. Things wouldn’t have turned out so badly, for Hetty has the simplest tastes, poor little darling, if she had not somehow or other got this horrible scarlet fever. She was so afraid I’d take her to the hospital; but not I!—the landlady and I nursed her between us.”
“But, Jack, where did you get the money?” The heavy flush got deeper on my brother’s brow. He turned his head away, and his manner became almost gruff.
“That’s the awkward part,” he growled. “I—I borrowed the money.”
“From whom?”
“Chillingfleet.”
“Mr Chillingfleet? He’s the head of your firm, isn’t he?”
“Yes, yes. I went into his room one day. His private drawer was open; I took four five-pound notes. That was last Monday. He won’t miss them until next Monday—the day he makes up his accounts. I thought Hetty was dying, and the notes stared me in the face, and I—I borrowed them. He has tens of thousands of pounds, and I—I borrowed twenty.”
“Jack—Jack—you stole them!”
I covered my face with my hands; I trembled all over.
“Oh, don’t, Rose! call me by every ugly name you like—there, I know I’m a brute.”