Greene and a few others, however, with a malignity that spoke an interested motive, did not fail to turn this statement into ridicule. Greene in particular, who had displayed great anxiety and uneasiness during the absence of Henry and George, at the conclusion of the tale which the boys had requested George to relate, burst into loud and excessive laughter, and exclaimed, "This is one of the finest tales I ever heard. Is it likely, in the first place, that any gentleman would give them a sovereign? Did any of you ever receive so much at one time; and that, too, from a poor traveller? And is it likely that, if they had had it given to them, as they wish us to believe, that they would have parted with it in the manner they say they have? It is all a made-up story. I don't know where Scott's money is; but I think, if it has been given to the poor cottagers, he ought to have the credit of it."
Several of the boys then joined him in the loud laugh with which he concluded this base insinuation. Poor Henry was again driven back into his low-spiritedness, and gave, first a look of contempt at Greene, and then cast his eyes upon George, as his only refuge and support against this fresh and unexpected attack. It is difficult to say how Greene would have fared, had not Dr. Harris at this moment entered the school; for George was never more indignant, nor never felt a greater inclination to tell Greene what he thought of his cowardly conduct, than he did at this moment. Little Ned, however, did not fail to whisper in his ear as he passed, that which was at all times an unwelcome sound: "Who stole the cakes?" said he, loud enough for the rest of the boys to hear. Greene looked vexed, and went to his seat.
Some time passed away, and nothing transpired to clear up this mysterious affair; while the few enemies that Henry had in the school appeared to increase, from the construction which Greene and some others had put upon George's explanation concerning the money. Henry, unable to bear up against the stigma, not only grew melancholy, but began to lose his appetite, and looked very thin and ill. Mrs. Harris really felt somewhat alarmed, and said every thing she could to comfort him; but, alas! it was all in vain. Scott also, to do him justice, did every thing in his power to relieve him, but without avail; and Henry began to think he should fall a victim to a false accusation, for he had no sleep by night, nor ease by day.
Dr. Harris now proposed to send for his father, which he did; and he arrived in a few days. Dr. H. made him acquainted with the whole affair, from first to last; and Henry was sent for into the parlour. His father was shocked at his appearing in such ill health, and the agony of his feelings was intense at the cause of his illness. He entreated him, by the love he bore towards him and his mother, to confess the truth. "If, my dear boy," he said, "you have, in an unguarded moment, been led into an error, the only reparation is openly to confess it. In that case I will pay the boy the money, and you shall receive my forgiveness."
Henry assured him that he knew nothing at all of the money—that it made him very unhappy indeed—that he had had no sleep for the last three or four nights—and that he had lost his appetite; when, throwing his arms round his father's neck, he burst into an agony of tears, and could only exclaim, "I am innocent! I am innocent!"
Mrs. Harris having pacified Henry, said that it would perhaps be best for Mr. Wardour to take him home for a short time; but to this Henry himself objected, as he knew very well that there were boys who would turn that to his disadvantage. His father, therefore, procured him some medicine, to calm his spirits and allay the slight fever which he appeared to have; and then went to transact some business at a short distance from the village, promising to see him again in a few days, and determining, in his own mind, to take Henry home with him, should nothing transpire in the mean time to free him from this accusation.