The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 9

"Went pretty quiet, sir, till we got about half-way there, and then he begun kicking like mad--leastways he didn't kick, because his legs was tied, but he let go all he could, and it was hard work to hold the ladder."

"And he is now safely locked up?"

"Yes, sir, and I've been thinking, sir, as he must have took that money when Master Don here was up in the warehouse along o' me."

"I daresay we shall find all out by-and-by, Wimble," said the old merchant, coldly. "That will do, now."

Jem looked uneasily at Don, as he turned his hat round to make sure which was the right way on, and moved slowly toward the door.

"Which, begging your pardon, sir, you don't think now as--"

"Well?" said the old merchant, sharply, for Jem had stopped.

"Think as Mrs Wimble picked up any of the money, sir?"

"No, no, my man, of course not."

"Thankye, sir, I'm glad of that; and if I might make so bold, sir, about Master Don--"

"What do you wish to say, man?"

"Oh, nothing, sir, only I'm quite sure, sir, as it was all Mike Bannock's doing, and--"

"I think you had better go on with your work, Wimble, which you do understand, and not meddle with things that are beyond you."

"Certainly, sir, certainly," said Jem, quickly. "Just going, sir;" and giving Don a sympathetic look, he hurried out, but had hardly closed the door before he opened it again.

"Beg pardon, sir, Mrs Lavington, sir, and Miss Kitty."

Don started from his stool, crimson with mortification. His mother!

What would Uncle Josiah say?

Jem Wimble gave Don another look full of condolence before he closed the door, leaving Mrs Lavington and her niece in the office.

Mrs Lavington's face was full of anxiety and care, as she glanced from her son to her brother and back again, while Kitty's was as full of indignant reproof as she darted an angry look at Don, and then frowned and looked straight down at the floor.

"Well?" said the old merchant, coldly, "why have you come? You know I do not like you to bring Kitty here to the business place."

"I--I heard--" faltered Mrs Lavington, who stood in great awe of her brother when he was in one of his stern moods.

"Heard? Well, what did you hear?"

"Such terrible news, Josiah."

"Well, well, what?"

"Oh, my brother!" she exclaimed, wildly, as she stepped forward and caught his hand, "tell me it is not true."

"How can I tell you what is not true when I don't know what you are talking about," cried the old man, impatiently. "My dear Laura, do you think I have not worries enough without your coming here?"

"Yes, yes; I know, dear."

"And you ought to know that I shall do what is just and right."

"I am sure of that, Josiah, but I felt obliged to come. Kitty and I were out shopping, and we met a crowd."

"Then you should have turned down a side street."

"But they were your men in the midst, and directly after I saw little Sally Wimble following."

"Oh, she was, was she?" cried the old man, glad of some one on whom to vent his spleen. "That woman goes. How dare she leave the gates when her husband is out? I shall be having the place robbed again."

"Yes, that is what she said, Josiah--that you had been robbed, and that Don--my boy--oh, no, no, no; say it is not true."

Mrs Lavington looked wildly from one to the other, but there was a dead silence, and in a few minutes the poor woman's manner had entirely changed. When she first spoke it was as the timid, shrinking, affectionate woman; now it was as the mother speaking in defence of her child.

"I say it is not true," she cried. "You undertook to be a father to my poor boy, and now you charge him with having robbed you."

"Laura, be calm," said the old merchant, quietly; "and you had better take Kitty back home and wait."

"You have always been too stern and harsh with the poor boy," continued Mrs Lavington, without heeding him. "I was foolish ever to come and trust to you. How dare you charge him with such a crime?"

"I did not charge him with any crime, my dear Laura," said the old merchant, gravely.

"Then it is not true?"

"It is true that I have been robbed, and that the man whom Lindon has persisted in making his companion, in spite of all I have said to the contrary, has charged him with the base, contemptible crime of robbing the master who trusted him."

"But it is not true, Josiah; and that is what you always do, treat my poor boy as if he were your servant instead of your nephew--your sister's boy."

"I treat Lindon as if he were my son when we are at home," said the old man, quietly. "When we are here at the office I treat him as my clerk, and I trust him to look after my interests, and to defend me from dishonest people."

Don looked up, and it was on his lips to say, "Indeed, uncle, I always have done so," when the old man's next words seemed to chill and harden him.

"But instead of doing his duty by me, I have constantly had to reprove him for making a companion of a man whom I weakly, and against my better judgment, allowed in the yard; and the result is I have been robbed, and this man accuses Lindon of committing the robbery, and bribing him to silence."

"But it is not true, Josiah. My son could not be guilty of such a crime."

"He will have every opportunity of disproving it before the magistrates," said Uncle Josiah, coldly.

"Magistrates!--my boy?" exclaimed Mrs Lavington, wildly. "Oh, no, no, no, brother; you will not proceed to such extremities as these. My boy before the magistrates. Impossible!"

"The matter is out of my hands, now," said the old merchant, gravely.

"I was bound to charge that scoundrel labourer with the theft. I could not tell that he would accuse your son of being the princ.i.p.al in the crime."

"But you will stop it now for my sake, dear. Don, my boy, why do you not speak, and beg your uncle's forgiveness?"

Don remained silent, with his brow wrinkled, his chin upon his breast, and a stubborn look of anger in his eyes, as he stood with his hands in his pockets, leaning back against his desk.