“I started to go, but Durfy broke out, this time in tones of sincere terror,—
“‘Don’t do that, don’t ruin me! I did take it, but—’
“‘Give it to me then.’
“‘I can’t. I’ve eaten it!’
“Wasn’t this a thunderbolt! How were we to prove whose the letter was? Wild thoughts of a stomach-pump, or soap and warm water, did flash through my mind, but what was the use? The fellow had done us after all, and we had to admit it.
“No one stopped him as he went to the door, half scowling, half grinning.
“‘Good morning, gentlemen!’ said he. ‘I hope you’ll get a better night’s rest to-morrow. I promise not to disturb you,’ (here followed a few oaths). ‘But I’ll pay you out, some of you—Crudens, Reginalds, sneaks, prigs—all of you!’
“With which neat peroration he took his leave, and the Rocket has not seen him since.
“Here’s a long screed! I must pull up now.
“Mother’s not very well, she’s fretting, I’m afraid, and her eyes trouble her. I can’t say we shall be sorry when Christmas comes, for try all we can, we’re in debt at one or two of the shops. I know you’ll hate to hear it, but it’s simply unavoidable on our present means. I wish I could come down and see you; but for one thing, I can’t afford it, and for another, I can’t leave mother. Mrs Shuckleford is really very kind, though she’s not a congenial spirit.