"You--_you_, my child, stole my money!" Angela now moved slowly across the room and put her hand on Pen's shoulder. "She is very, very sorry," said Angela. "She feels heartbroken; she failed just in the one thing, she had not the courage to confess. But because you discovered the theft she would not go to Whitby to-day; she was determined to stay and brave it out." "And she came," said Pen, "and she told me that I ought to tell you." There was no word about Jim. Pen had determined that Jim was to be left out of the matter. But just at that moment there was a noise in the hall, a hurried step, a cheerful tone, and Jim himself burst into the room. "Oh, father! You here, Pen? Oh, my darling, I am ever so sorry! Father, I forgot all about it in the other excitement, but it's all right, it's all right. We're all right, everything is all right, and-- and Pen told me. I said I would speak to you, but when you sent me away in such a hurry, I forgot, and Pen, I suppose she was frightened. Pen, can you forgive me?" "Then you never got my letter?" said Pen. "I sent it to the Holroyds', I knew you were there." Mr Carter looked troubled. He went up and took Jim's hand. "I am ever so puzzled," he said. "I accused that girl, Betty Wren, and it seems--but tell me the whole story, Pen. I must hear it from beginning to end. Then I shall be able to decide." So Pen told him the story. Angela stood very gravely by. She stood a little bit in the background, and the shadow of the great curtain partly concealed her face, but the light of evening fell across her white dress, so that her whole appearance was like that of a pitying angel, who was waiting for the moment when the sinner was to be forgiven. Mr Carter looked from one of his children to the other, then at Angela. "You have pretty high ideas of honour," he said. "You know what this sort of thing means. Now, tell me what you would do if you were in my shoes." "There is no doubt whatever about what you will do," said Angela. "You think, don't you--I believe saints always do--that sin ought to be punished." "We have the Divine Example," said Angela in a low tone. Mr Carter looked at her. "You said a strange thing a minute ago; you said you were Penelope's friend," he remarked. "So I am, from this day forward, as long as we both live." "You are in rare luck," said Carter, looking gloomily at Pen, "to have a friend like that." He walked to the other end of the room and began to stride up and down. He was hurt beyond anything he could have imagined. What was he to do? How was he to endure his own misery? It was bad enough to have a servant in the house who could be dishonest, bad enough to have a clerk who could steal, but here was his own child. "Did I ever deny you anything?" he said. "No, father." "Couldn't you come to me and ask me for the money?" "I was so terrified and afraid--oh, I have no excuse."