"Well, there's no use talking now; you will not convince me if you talk till doomsday. That money you've got to replace out of your salary."
"Why, sir, it was three hundred dollars."
"There! there! how do you know how much it was, if you didn't look at it, I'd like to know."
"I heard Wilkins say this morning he had such a deposit to make. Ask him, sir, if he didn't."
"I've heard enough about it. You must make it up, that's all; and you'll be more careful henceforth."
"And, sir, you will retract what you insinuated had become of it? I'll willingly make it up to you, if it takes every cent I earn; but I'll not have a blight upon my reputation, even in your opinion, sir."
His words fell upon empty air; for Mr. Delancey had already left the high desk, and was striking his cane heavily down with each step, as he stalked down through the store. Arthur sank upon a chair, and buried his face in his hands.
"A hard fate," he murmured, bitterly. "First to suffer the loss, and then to be accused, or at least suspected, of appropriating it. Heavens! it is too much; I will not and cannot stand it."
"Be calm, Arthur," said Wilkins, in his full deep tones; "look up, and tell us what has happened."
Arthur raised his head, and told his story unhesitatingly.