"Don't keep him in suspense longer, dear," Mrs. Blake here interposed. "It can't do any good."
"Is it best?" he asked, as if not agreeing with her.
"Yes; for it can't be kept from him forever," she answered.
"Well, then, my son," he spoke up at last, with sorrowful voice, "your Uncle has been arrested, but none of us believes he has done anything wrong, and know that it will all be cleared up at last."
"Arrested!" I exclaimed, scarce able to speak; "Uncle Job arrested, and for what?"
"Oh, the charge is of no account. It is not true, of course. It can't be; every one says that!" Mr. Blake went on, the effort to talk and to lighten the force of what he was saying being altogether beyond him.
"Tell him, my dear; it will do no good now to keep anything back," Mrs. Blake spoke up again, putting her arm about me as a mother might a stricken child.
"All right; you know best, my dear, I suppose. Well, then, my son, your uncle is accused of taking—taking money, but no one believes he stole it."
"Uncle Job steal money!" I cried, too much overcome to say more.
"Well, the money was left with him, and in the morning it was gone."