"I did not, Ernest; but don't be distressed about it. The letter intimates that she is kindly treated."
"I hope she is."
"Have you any more papers, Ernest?" asked Bob, apparently as much with the intention of turning my thoughts away from the sad subject which agitated me, as of gratifying his own curiosity.
"That's all, Bob," I replied, taking from my pocket the piece of newspaper in which I had rolled up the money I had taken from the safe. "Was it stealing for me to take this money?" I asked, as I unrolled the bills.
"I don't think it was," replied Bob. "You took it to pay your expenses in finding your mother; and, even if it were a technical theft, I don't think any one can blame you for what you have done. The money is really your own. How much is there?"
"I don't know. I haven't looked at it before."
"Count it, Ernest."
I did so, and was appalled to find I had taken between fourteen and fifteen hundred dollars.
"All right, Ernest. You are a smart fellow, and I'll tell you what I should do if I were in your place," replied Bob, who did not appear to be alarmed at the magnitude of the sum.
"What?"