"Mr. Henry must have intended to redeem it within a week, as he said, papa; or he would never have disclosed the fact of his being one of the college masters: he hoped, I suppose, to replace it here before it was missed. I wonder why he did not do it?"
"Emma, I could have trusted that young man with untold gold."
"What shall you do about it, papa?"
"I don't know what to do," said the doctor, rousing himself from a pause of perplexed thought. "Look you, child; he must stay here until the Oxford examination. To discharge him now might peril the passing of the boys."
"I see. Of course it might. And he is so excellent a master!"
"I wish; I wish I had not heard this."
Emma wished so too; wished, rather, there had been nothing to hear.
"His staying on a little while will not make matters worse, papa," she resumed, trying to put the best side of things outwards; "he might stay until the end of the term. We have missed nothing since. And if I had not happened to go into that shop for a watch-key, we should be in just as much ignorance as we were before."
"If!" said the doctor, "if! if! life is half made up of ifs. I'll take a night's rest upon this unpleasantness, Emma; meanwhile keep strict counsel."
"I shall keep that always, poor young man. I can't help being sorry for him; he is so hardworking and so friendless; and, papa, with it all, he is a gentleman. But what about the pencil?"