"Why, who is it?"
"That beggar I wouldn't let you give money to."
Horace turned scarlet with the shock of surprise and the knowledge—which he absurdly felt as guilty knowledge—that the man was dead, perhaps even buried by now.
"Oh, nonsense, Mater!" he began, stammering. "He won't come there again. Besides, you never give to beggars."
"I mean to give this man something."
Horace was more and more surprised.
"Why?" he exclaimed. "Why now? You wouldn't when I wanted you to, and now—now it's too late. What do you wish to give to him for now?"
But all she would say was, "I feel that I should like to, that—that his perhaps really was a deserving case. Come, Horace, let us go and try to find him."
And the boy, bound by his word to Captain Hindford, was forced to go out in search of a dead man. He felt the horror of this quest. To-day Mrs. Errington carried her purse in her hand, and looked eagerly out for the beggar. Once she fancied she saw him in the distance.
"There he is!" she cried to Horace. "Run and fetch him."