"I thought there wan't but one honest feller in the world, and I was cheated in him," said she, bitterly.
"Not exactly, Mrs. Whippleton," I replied, handing her the sealed package. "There are your papers and your money."
"No; you don't say it!"
"Open it, and see."
It took an hour for her to count the money and examine the papers. She compared them with the receipt I had given her, and nothing was missing.
"Well, I reckon you be honest, after all," said she, cheerfully. "Who'd 'a thought it! But where is Charles? I didn't know but he might got the papers away from you. He wanted to raise all the money he could to save himself from ruin."
"Not for that; but to set himself up in business in China," I replied; and then I told the story of her son's misdeeds.
"So he's in jail—is he?" exclaimed she. "Well, I was afraid it would come to this, when I heard he was in trouble, for Charles never was as shrewd as he ought to be."
"Shrewd!" I replied, in disgust. "He has followed out your maxims of worldly wisdom, instead of being true to God, himself, and his fellow-beings; and now he has his reward."
"Well, I don't know what all that has to do with it. I say he wan't shrewd," persisted the old lady.