Derrick’s interest was on the increase; his own opinion of Uncle Evarts and Aunt Caroline was such that he could fancy them doing anything they pleased which would further their own interests. He closed his Latin reader with a slam and, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, in the attitude of attention, said eagerly:
“Begin at the beginning, Aunt Elsie, and tell me all about it. Honestly, I never heard much about father’s home folks and the time when he was a boy.”
“The beginning of this,” said his aunt, “dates back to the time your Uncle Derrick chose for a friend a boy who wasn’t worthy of his friendship. I suppose you never heard of Horace Beach? I knew him well, and never liked him, although he was smooth-spoken enough, and tried to pet me; it seemed as though I always knew he was a kind of sneak. He was several years older than Derrick, and had great influence over him; mother used to say that Horace Beach could make him do anything he chose. The last time the fellow was at our house was a Christmas vacation; Derrick coaxed to be allowed to bring him home with him, because his mother was in Europe and he was lonesome; and he had word to go out and join her, before the vacation was over. If she had only sent a few days sooner poor Derrick’s life would have been very different.”
“What happened?” questioned the listener. He saw that his aunt was in danger of losing herself among mournful memories.
“Why, father’s old college friend, Colonel Banks, was visiting us, and one evening he showed us children a very curious leather belt that he said he always wore when travelling; he was a great traveller. I think he had been twice around the world, and that was a great feat in those days. The belt was to carry his money; gold, he always had, for his journey. He said he would be for weeks together where there was no bank or exchange office, or any way to get money. It is all arranged differently now, but he grew to liking that way so much that he said he carried his money about with him even when he was where banks were handy. He had it filled with gold that night; he showed it to us. The bag had an opening at one end that shut with a spring lock, and one who did not understand couldn’t have opened it. Then he showed us how it clasped about his waist, with another spring, that he said sometimes he couldn’t unlock, himself, without a good deal of fussing. I guess I remember every word he said about it, and every other thing that happened that night and the next day; it seemed sort of burned into me; and I wasn’t quite nine years old, either. While he was showing us this, and talking about it, a neighbor came to call; and very soon after that the boys, Derrick and Evarts and Horace, asked to be excused, and went up stairs. As Derrick was passing out, Colonel Banks motioned to him and gave him the money belt to carry to his room. He told him to open the valise that he would find there and lay it inside—and that was the last that was ever seen of that money belt.”
Derrick, the listener, whistled sharply to express his dismay.
“Yes,” said his aunt, as though he had spoken, “it is dreadful, but it is true. There is no use in my trying to tell about the days that followed; I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. Poor Derrick acted so very strangely; at least it seemed so to us at the time. He admitted that he took the belt from Colonel Banks’ hand, but he said that he did not take it up stairs and did not know what had become of it.”
“Rot!” said young Derrick. “How could he expect anybody to believe such a story?”
“I believed it,” Aunt Elsie said, firmly. “I was only a little bit of a girl, but I never believed for a single minute that your Uncle Derrick stole that belt; not a bit more than I believe it now.”
“And didn’t he, Aunt Elsie, honor bright?”