”To ask me a question!“ said Pitkin, surprised.
”Yes; why did you pay Philip in bills to-day? Why didn’t you give him a check, as usual?“
”Why,“ answered Pitkin, hesitating, ”I thought it wouldn’t make any difference to you. I thought you would be able to use it more readily.“
”Did you suppose I would specially need to use money instead of a check this week? Why break over your usual custom?“
”Really, I didn’t give much thought to the matter,“ answered Pitkin, hesitating. ”I acted on a sudden impulse.“
”Your impulse has cost me two hundred dollars. Do me the favor, when Philip calls next week, to hand him a check.“
”You mean to retain him in your employ after this?“ asked Mrs. Pitkin sharply.
”Yes, I do. Why shouldn’t I?“
”You are very trustful,“ observed the lady, tossing her head. ”If this had happened to Lonny here, we should never have heard the last of it.“
”Perhaps not!“ responded the old gentleman dryly. ”When a young gentleman is trusted with a letter to mail containing money, and that letter never reaches its destination, it may at least be inferred that he is careless.“
It will be remember that this was the first knowledge Mrs. Pitkin or her husband had of the transaction referred to.
”What do you mean, Uncle Oliver?“ demanded Mr. Pitkin.
Mr. Carter explained.
”This is too much!“ said Mrs. Pitkin angrily.
”You mean to accuse my poor boy of opening the letter and stealing the money?“
”If I was as ready to bring accusations as you, Lavinia, I should undoubtedly say that it looked a little suspicious, but I prefer to let the matter rest.“
”I think, Mr. Pitkin, we had better go,“ said Mrs. Pitkin, rising with dignity. ”Since Uncle Oliver chooses to charge his own nephew with being a thief—-“
”I beg pardon, Lavinia, I have not done so.“
”You might just as well,“ said Lavinia Pitkin, tossing her head. ”Come, Mr. Pitkin; come, my poor Lonny, we will go home. This is no place for you.“
”Good-evening, Lavinia,“ said Mr. Carter calmly. ”I shall be glad to see you whenever you feel like calling.“
”When you have discharged that boy, I may call again,“ said Mrs. Pitkin spitefully.
”You will have to wait some time, then. I am quite capable of managing my own affairs.“
When Mr. Pitkin had left the house, by no means in a good humor, Phil turned to his employer and said gratefully:
”I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. Carter, for your kind confidence in me. I admit that the story I told you is a strange one, and I could not have blamed you for doubting me.“
”But I don’t doubt you, my dear Philip,“ said Mr. Carter kindly.
”Nor I,“ said Mrs. Forbush. ”I feel provoked with Lavinia and her husband for trying to throw discredit upon your statement.“
”In fact,“ said Mr. Carter humorously, ”the only one of us that suspected you was Julia.“
”Oh, Uncle Oliver!“ exclaimed Julia, in dismay. ”I never dreamed of doubting Phil.“
”Then,“ said Mr. Carter, ”it appears that you have three friends, at least.“
”If,“ said Phil? ”you would allow me to make up part of the loss, by surrendering a part of my salary—-“
”Couldn’t be thought of, Philip!“ said Uncle Oliver resolutely. ”I don’t care for the money, but I should like to know how the thief happened to know that to-day you received money instead of a check.“
Without saying a word to Phil, Uncle Oliver called the next day on a noted detective and set him to work ferreting out the secret.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE FALSE HEIR.
IN THE suburbs of Chicago, perhaps a dozen miles from the great city, stands a fine country house, in the midst of a fine natural park. From the cupola which surmounts the roof can be seen in the distance the waters of Lake Michigan, stretching for many miles from north to south and from east to west, like a vast inland sea.
The level lawns, the greenhouses, the garden with rare plants and flowers, show clearly that this is the abode of a rich man. My readers will be specially interested to know that this is the luxurious and stately home of Mr. Granville, whose son’s fortunes we have been following.