“I don’t think you would say I bore it well, if you knew all the angry thoughts I had. But I am very glad and thankful now, and I am sure mamma will thank you for all your kindness. I know now you never thought me capable of doing so wrong a thing.”
“We are all poor creatures, David, my man. There is no saying what we mightna’ do if we were left to ourselves. Be thankful and humble, and pray for grace to keep in the right way; and mind that yon young man’s eyes are upon you, and that you are, in a measure, responsible for his well-doing or his ill-doing, for awhile, at least; and may the Lord guide you,” said Mr Caldwell, solemnly, and then he went away.
David stood gazing after him with astonished eyes.
“I responsible for him! That can hardly be. I am nothing to him. I wonder what mamma would say? I shall have nothing to do with him for awhile, at least. I like Frank much the best. Oh! isn’t it good to be going home!”
David had one thing to do with Philip Oswald before he went away. He came to the station with a parcel which he wished him to take to his little sisters, and to see him off. He was merry and good-humoured, though he pretended to be dreadfully afraid of not being able to fill David’s place in the office to the satisfaction of Mr Caldwell.
“If Aunt Mary will ask me, I will come to Gourlay and spend some Sunday with you,” said he. “I have a settlement to make with Master Frank. I did not think that he and Violet would have called me a dishonest person, even to clear you. I am very angry with them both.”
He did not look very angry, for he said it with laughing lips. But David was shocked.
“Violet never thought that of you. She only said that—that—”
“Well! What did she say?” demanded Philip.
“She said it was quite impossible,” went on David. “She said there was no motive—I mean—She said you were foolish, and frivolous, and thought first of your own pleasure—but—”