Charles found some satisfaction in this indefinite accusation; but it was not enough to quiet his troubled conscience. Life seemed different to him since he had stolen the purse—he had not got far enough in wickedness yet to believe that it was not stolen. He felt guilty, and his sense of guilt followed him wherever he went. He could not shake it off. Everybody seemed to look reproachfully at him. He avoided his companions in the club when not on duty with them. He began to hate Frank Sedley, though he could not tell the reason. William Bright, who was now the coxswain, Frank's term having expired, was a very strict disciplinarian, and the guilty boy had grown very impatient of restraint. He was surly and ill-natured when the coxswain rebuked him, even in the kindest tones. Everything went wrong with him, for the worm was gnawing at his heart.
"Won't you tell me, Tim?" asked he, in reply to Tim's remark.
"Not now, Charley; one of these days you shall know all about it."
"I am afraid we shall both get turned out of the club."
"No we shan't; if we do—— But no matter.'
"What would you do, Tim?"
"Never mind now, Charley. I have a plan in my head. Captain Sedley told me the other day if I didn't behave better I should be turned out."
"Then you will be."
"I don't care if I am. If they turn me out, they will make a mistake; that's all."
There was something mysterious in the words of the Bunker which excited the curiosity of Charles. He could not help wondering what he would do. Tim had so much resolution he was sure it was not an idle boast.