“Well, I think you may have been too hard upon Carl.”
“Too hard? Why, then, did he not treat me respectfully? This boy seems inclined to be impertinent.”
“I answered your questions, madam,” said Gilbert, coldly.
“I suppose you side with your friend Carl?”
“I certainly do.”
Mrs. Crawford bit her lip.
“What is the object of your coming? Does Carl wish to return?”
“I thought Dr. Crawford might have told you.”
“Carl wants his clothes sent to him,” said the doctor. “He only carried a few with him.”
“I shall not consent to it. He deserves no favors at our hands.”
This was too much even for Dr. Crawford.
“You go too far, Mrs. Crawford,” he said. “I am sensible of the boy’s faults, but I certainly will not allow his clothes to be withheld from him.”
“Oh, well! spoil him if you choose!” said the lady, sullenly. “Take his part against your wife!”
“I have never done that, but I will not allow him to be defrauded of his clothes.”
“I have no more to say,” said Mrs. Crawford, her eyes snapping. She was clearly mortified at her failure to carry her point.
“Do you wish the trunk to be sent to your house?” asked the doctor.
“Yes, sir; I have packed the clothes and locked the trunk.”
“I should like to examine it before it goes,” put in Mrs. Crawford, spitefully.
“Why?”
“To make sure that nothing has been put in that does not belong to Carl.”
“Do you mean to accuse me of stealing, madam?” demanded Gilbert, indignantly.
Mrs. Crawford tossed her head.
“I don’t know anything about you,” she replied.
“Dr. Crawford, am I to open the trunk?” asked Gilbert.
“No,” answered the doctor, with unwonted decision.
“I hate that boy! He has twice subjected me to mortification,” thought Mrs. Crawford.
“You know very well,” she said, turning to her husband, “that I have grounds for my request. I blush to mention it, but I have reason to believe that your son took a wallet containing twenty-five dollars from my bureau drawer.”
“I deny it!” said Gilbert.
“What do you know about it, I should like to ask?” sneered Mrs. Crawford.
“I know that Carl is an honorable boy, incapable of theft, and at this moment has but thirty-seven cents in his possession.”
“So far as you know.”
“If the money has really disappeared, madam, you had better ask your own boy about it.”
“This is insufferable!” exclaimed Mrs. Crawford, her light eyes emitting angry flashes. “Who dares to say that Peter took the wallet?” she went on, rising to her feet.
There was an unexpected reply. Jane entered the room at this moment to ask a question.
“I say so, ma’am,” she rejoined.
“What?” ejaculated Mrs. Crawford, with startling emphasis.
“I didn’t mean to say anything about it till I found you were charging it on Master Carl. I saw Peter open your bureau drawer, take out the wallet, and put it in his pocket.”
“It’s a lie!” said Mrs. Crawford, hoarsely.
“It’s the truth, though I suppose you don’t want to believe it. If you want to know what he did with the money ask him how much he paid for the gold ring he bought of the jeweler down at the village.”
“You are a spy—a base, dishonorable spy!” cried Mrs. Crawford.
“I won’t say what you are, ma’am, to bring false charges against Master Carl, and I wonder the doctor will believe them.”
“Leave the house directly, you hussy!” shrieked Mrs. Crawford.
“If I do, I wonder who’ll get the dinner?” remarked Jane, not at all disturbed.
“I won’t stay here to be insulted,” said the angry lady. “Dr. Crawford, you might have spirit enough to defend your wife.”
She flounced out of the room, not waiting for a reply, leaving the doctor dazed and flurried.
“I hope, sir, you are convinced now that Carl did not take Mrs. Crawford’s money,” said Gilbert. “I told you it was probably Peter.”
“Are you sure of what you said, Jane?” asked the doctor.
“Yes, sir. I saw Peter take the wallet with my own eyes.”
“It is his mother’s money, and they must settle it between them I am glad Carl did not take it. Really, this has been a very unpleasant scene.”
“I am sorry for my part in it. Carl is my friend, and I feel that I ought to stand up for his rights,” remarked Gilbert.