Even Mrs Glegg could not withhold her approval from Tom’s words; she felt that the Dodson blood was certainly speaking in him, though, if his father had been a Dodson, there would never have been this wicked alienation of money. Maggie would hardly have restrained herself from leaping on Tom’s neck, if her aunt Moss had not prevented her by herself rising and taking Tom’s hand, while she said, with rather a choked voice: “You’ll never be the poorer for this, my dear boy, if there’s a God above; and if the money’s wanted for your father, Moss and me ’ull pay it, the same as if there was ever such security. We’ll do as we’d be done by; for if my children have got no other luck, they’ve got an honest father and mother.” “Well,” said Mr Glegg, who had been meditating after Tom’s words, “we shouldn’t be doing any wrong by the creditors, supposing your father _was_ bankrupt. I’ve been thinking o’ that, for I’ve been a creditor myself, and seen no end o’ cheating. If he meant to give your aunt the money before ever he got into this sad work o’ lawing, it’s the same as if he’d made away with the note himself; for he’d made up his mind to be that much poorer. But there’s a deal o’ things to be considered, young man,” Mr Glegg added, looking admonishingly at Tom, “when you come to money business, and you may be taking one man’s dinner away to make another man’s breakfast. You don’t understand that, I doubt?” “Yes, I do,” said Tom, decidedly. “I know if I owe money to one man, I’ve no right to give it to another. But if my father had made up his mind to give my aunt the money before he was in debt, he had a right to do it.” “Well done, young man! I didn’t think you’d been so sharp,” said uncle Glegg, with much candor. “But perhaps your father _did_ make away with the note. Let us go and see if we can find it in the chest.” “It’s in my father’s room. Let us go too, aunt Gritty,” whispered Maggie. Chapter IV. A Vanishing Gleam Mr Tulliver, even between the fits of spasmodic rigidity which had recurred at intervals ever since he had been found fallen from his horse, was usually in so apathetic a condition that the exits and entrances into his room were not felt to be of great importance. He had lain so still, with his eyes closed, all this morning, that Maggie told her aunt Moss she must not expect her father to take any notice of them. They entered very quietly, and Mrs Moss took her seat near the head of the bed, while Maggie sat in her old place on the bed, and put her hand on her father’s without causing any change in his face. Mr Glegg and Tom had also entered, treading softly, and were busy selecting the key of the old oak chest from the bunch which Tom had brought from his father’s bureau. They succeeded in opening the chest,—which stood opposite the foot of Mr Tulliver’s bed,—and propping the lid with the iron holder, without much noise.