“Yes,” continued the other; “you are worrying because you cannot get on with your reading, and the prospect of examination is getting uncomfortably distinct. I hear from Mr Cookson that you have been mugging lately, just as I have. Well, you will not lose much time, and you will find yourself all the clearer for lying fallow a little. And look here, I am a little more forward than you, and if you will come and stay with us in the holidays I will read with you; I think I could help you a bit. My mother would be very glad to see you. Or if that can’t be, I’ll come to you. I am sure we could more than make up for any lost time.”
Edwards was able to sit up now, and Crawley read amusing books, and played games with him whenever he could leave school or pupil-room.
“What a kind chap you are!” said Edwards with a broken voice, and with water in his eyes, for he was very weak and nervous; “I—I don’t deserve it.”
“Not?” exclaimed Crawley. “Why, surely I ought to do what I can, when it is my fault that you got hurt. I am most unlucky this term; I get robbed, and am suspected of inventing the story of it to cover my misappropriation of the money; and then I wind up with breaking a fellow’s ribs!”
“No one thinks for a moment that you were not robbed as you say; I am certain of it!” cried Edwards.
“I don’t know about that; some of them said they did, and I would give anything to prove that they did me wrong. It will stick in my gizzard a long time, I can tell you.”
Edwards buried his face in his hands and fairly sobbed.
“I can bear it no longer,” he cried at last. “You so kind to me and all! I know who robbed you.”
“You!” exclaimed Crawley, thinking the boy had gone delirious again.
“Yes, I,” repeated Edwards. “I did not see it done, and he never told me he had done it, but I know he did, and—and, I profited by the money and never said anything.”