“I tell you he’s found it by now,” said Ashby. Then, turning to Fisher minor, he whispered, “you howling young ass, you’ve done it! Now there’ll be a regular row, and your brother will have you to thank for it!”
“Don’t blame him,” said Dangle. “It’s quite right of him to tell the truth.”
With which highly moral pronouncement the Modern senior strolled away.
Lickford was too much engrossed by a sudden influx of customers to improve the occasion; and Fisher minor, who never enjoyed ginger-beer less in his life, was allowed to depart in peace to meditate on the evil of his ways, and the possible hot water he had been preparing for his brother.
He had sense enough to reflect that he had better make a clean breast of it to his brother at once.
To his surprise, the latter took the news that Dangle had heard of the deficiency in the accounts more quietly than he had expected.
“I do wish you’d hold your tongue out of doors about things that don’t concern you,” said he.
“Will Dangle get you into a row?” asked Fisher minor.
“Dangle? I’m not responsible to him more than to any one else. The money’s lost; and unless I can find it or make out where the mistake comes in, I shall have to stump up—that’s all.”
“But, I say, you haven’t got money enough,” said the boy.