“Billy Bennett, Erminie’s whereabouts is none of your business. You’ve made her and us enough trouble.”
He dropped the receiver. It was true. He was the cause of their trouble; he had gotten Erminie left at the picnic; he had angered Jim Barney, whose threats, Billy believed, had frightened Erminie into running away. And Billy could not say a word in her defence. She had to bear the cruel slur alone. How shameful that an innocent accident should be the scourge of a girl, perhaps for the whole of her life!
The afternoon was duller than the morning. It was near the end of the year, when the routine was somewhat relaxed, and the coming election on the morrow caused a buzz and stir, an undercurrent of restlessness that swept around and past Billy unheeded. He sat with his eyes glued to his books, trying to think, and failing.
At the close of the session he met the officers of the Good Citizens’ Club and told them of the loss of the money.
Bess, girl-like, jumped to her conclusion. “That Jim Barney has something to do with it!”
“Bess! Bess!” Reginald chided; “it’s serious—accusing one of stealing with no proof against him.”
“Just the same, I’m sure I’m right.”
“It makes no difference who took the money, I must make it up.” Billy faced them fearlessly. “Boys, and Bess, I know you’ll believe me when I say I don’t know a thing about where that money is. Yet I’m all to the bad for being so careless about it. I want to do the right thing, but I can’t refund it all at once, not—not to—”
“Of course you can’t, Billy! We’ll make it up, and the club need never know. I’ll lend you thirty myself, and I’m sure—”
“Here, Queen, you can’t have all the glory; the rest of us want to prove good too,” Reginald shook first her hand and then Billy’s.