"Oh, father!" exclaimed Clarice, "neither of them would do such a thing."
"Well, the goods must be somewhere," he replied, half-ashamed of his hot words. "Norris has often given me hints about the two, David and Owen; he says they are too much together for good."
"I expect Norris is at the bottom of it," said Clarice, eager to defend her young cousin.
"Nonsense. Norris has been with us for years. I would trust him as well as anybody. Owen, you can go to your own room for the present, till I decide what is to be done. Send David to me as soon as he returns."
Poor Owen, it was a sad ending to a pleasant little holiday. Things looked black, but he knew he had done as he was told, and that the goods had been carefully wrapped up, and laid on the counter ready to be taken away. Yet how could he prove it? Norris had seen him weighing the things out, but he had turned against him, and there was no other witness. He sat down by the side of his bed, and wondered what he should do if his uncle sent him to prison. Could he not run away? There were lots of ships about; perhaps he could get work on one of them. But better thoughts prevailed, and at last he sank on his knees, and prayed that some way might be found for him out of his trouble.
Meanwhile David had been questioned, and said that he had never been given anything for Mr. Davenport. He showed his book, stating what houses he had called at, and answered so straightforwardly that Mr. Hadleigh at once acquitted him of all complicity in wrong-doing.
"It is just that nephew of yours, Mr. Hadleigh," said his wife; "a little sneaking fellow, trying to toady himself into your favour by industry, and then returning it in this fashion."
"Owen never did it," said Clarice, decidedly.
"Ah, you always favoured him. You and your father should have believed me, and this would never have occurred," said her mother, sweeping out of the room.
Clarice possessed great influence with her father, so when they were alone, he asked, "Don't you really think it is Owen?"