Like many others, she could hold up her hands in holy horror at the crime made public, while she was willing to wink at or compromise the crime for her own benefit in the secret chambers of her own heart. If she had been taught in ancient Lacedæmonia that it is not a crime to steal, but a crime to be found out, she could not have been more faithful to its base policy.
Fanny heard the charge, but made no reply, pretending to be occupied in watching the course of the boat.
"You stole that money, Fanny Grant!" repeated Kate, with even more emphasis, and more holy horror than before.
"Well, what if I did?" answered Fanny, who was disposed to have her associate as deep in the mud as she herself was in the mire; and she knew that it would be impossible to deny the fact when she exhibited the great roll of bills in her pocket.
"I didn't think you would steal money, Fanny."
"You would yourself, if you got a chance."
"No, I wouldn't; I'm bad enough, I know, but I wouldn't steal."
"Yes, you would! You needn't pretend to be so good. You will never be hung for your honesty. I know you."
"Do you mean to say I would steal?" demanded Kate, not a little mortified to be thought so meanly of.
"I know you would. Who stole the strawberries the other day?"