"I saw Squire Tresham drop it, as he paid me for some ginger-beer he got for some ladies that was with him. I do believe I should ha' given it back at the time; but he made faces at the ginger-beer, and said it was very nasty; and I thought, well, I would punish him for it." "You see it was your temper that made a thief of you, then," I said. "My old man won't be so hard on me as you, sir. I wish I had told him first." "I would wish that too," I said, "were it not that I am afraid you might have persuaded him to be silent about it, and so have made him miserable and wicked too. But now, Stokes, what is to be done? This money must be paid. Have you got it?" The poor man looked blank. "She will never be at ease till this money is paid," I insisted. "Well, sir, I ain't got it, but I'll borrow it of someone; I'll go to master, and ask him." "No, my good fellow, that won't do. Your master would want to know what you were going to do with it, perhaps; and we mustn't let more people know about it than just ourselves and Squire Tresham. There is no occasion for that. I'll tell you what: I'll give you the money, and you must take it; or, if you like, I will take it to the squire, and tell him all about it. Do you authorise me to do this, Mrs. Stokes?" "Please, sir. It's very kind of you. I will work hard to pay you again, if it please God to spare me. I am very sorry I was so cross-tempered to you, sir; but I couldn't bear the disgrace of it." She said all this from under the bed-clothes. "Well, I'll go," I said; "and as soon as I've had my dinner I'll get a horse and ride over to Squire Tresham's. I'll come back to-night and tell you about it. And now I hope you will be able to thank God for forgiving you this sin; but you must not hide and cover it up, but confess it clean out to him, you know." She made me no answer, but went on sobbing. I hastened home, and as I entered sent Walter to ask the loan of a horse which a gentleman, a neighbour, had placed at my disposal. When I went into the dining-room, I found that they had not sat down to dinner. I expostulated: it was against the rule of the house, when my return was uncertain. "But, my love," said my wife, "why should you not let us please ourselves sometimes? Dinner is so much nicer when you are with us." "I am very glad you think so," I answered. "But there are the children: it is not good for growing creatures to be kept waiting for their meals." "You see there are no children; they have had their dinner." "Always in the right, wife; but there's Mr. Percivale." "I never dine till seven o'clock, to save daylight," he said. "Then I am beaten on all points. Let us dine."