"And Jane heard Ernest plead with the young scamp, to confess it to me; and he refused because, as he said, I'd half kill him. I was the only one to be deceived,—I, the father of the boy. Well, you'll all see that I am not a man to cover up my child's fault. I'll give Henry the cowhide till he repents of that job."
"Stop," exclaimed Mr. Monroe. "You must know the whole. Lying, as I always said, hardens the heart more than anything else. Henry felt so pleased at not being found out in that thing, that he stole his teacher's knife from her desk, and then, before the whole school, while Ernest was crying for his cousin's fault, he pointed at him as the guilty one. Miss Fosdick heard Henry whisper a threat,—if he dared tell of him, he'd cut him worse than before. There's a boy who must be stopped short in his career, or he will come to an untimely end."
"Henry," called out Mr. Drake, angrily. "Wife, if you're keeping the boy back, it will be the worse for him and for you, too. Tell him to come here this instant."
"I don't know where he is, John. I've been to his room, and he isn't there; and I wont deceive you any more. He's taken all the money out of your pocket-book; I found it empty on the table." And, wholly overcome with her emotions, she fell into a chair, covering her face with her hands.
There was a flash in the father's eye and a paleness about his mouth, as he strode toward the barn to harness his horse, which alarmed Mr. Monroe.
"Brother John," he said, "from the bottom of my heart I pity you. But don't be hasty; don't do anything in your anger that you will be sorry for. Kindness will do more for Henry than anything else. Ask yourself, 'Have I done my duty by my child? Have I taught him as I should?'"
The harness dropped from Mr. Drake's hand, the hardness faded out of the father's face, and, turning to his brother, he said, in a subdued tone,—
"Monroe, you've a right to upbraid me for my harsh talk about Ernest. Why don't you do it? Well, if it's no time now for reproach, when my heart is breaking, I'll take your advice about the boy. Shall I go or stay?"
"Stay, and let him come home. There is no danger of his going far."
Two, three days passed, days of agony to the mother, and of remorse to both. Mr. Drake almost regretted having taken Mr. Monroe's advice, and determined, if nothing was heard from the boy the next day, to start off in search of him.