"How could you have guessed? I have kept my troubles to myself. Why should I bother you with them? And it would be hard, indeed, if I could not give you a little pleasure now and then. It isn't much I give you, Lil--not as much as I should like to. Until I saw Lizzie, I had no one to love but you, and now, when everything might be so splendid with me, here am I stumped because I am hard-up. It's too bad--that's what it is--it's too bad altogether; and just at the time that I have got the tip for the Cesarewitch, and could make a thousand pounds as safe as nails." All this was Greek to Lily. She did not know what the "tip" or the Cesarewitch was, but she was too anxiously interested in Alfred's main trouble to go into details. "Is it much money you want, Alfred?" "No, not much, Lily." "Why not ask grandfather----" But he interrupted her with sudden vehemence. "Lily!" he cried. "Grandfather must not know anything of this. Promise me." "I promise," she answered readily; "but why, Alfred?" He dared not tell her the truth; he dared not say that his grandfather suspected him, and suspected him with just cause; he himself did not know whether it was suspicion or actual knowledge that caused his grandfather to be doubtful of him. Then how could he tell her to what purpose her earnings were devoted? If she knew that, not only would she become acquainted with the shameful story of their father's crime, but she might get to learn the story of the little iron box. For he was guilty of the theft; it was he who had stolen the money, intending, of course, to replace it, and not knowing why it was hoarded up so carefully.