Randolph hurried home to tell his mother what he had heard about Gilbert’s loss of employment. He knew well enough her feeling towards his father’s ward to feel sure that it would be welcome intelligence.

“Detected in stealing money!” ejaculated Mrs. Briggs, triumphantly. “Just what I predicted all along. I am not often deceived about character.”

“I never heard you predict it, mother,” said Randolph.

“It was only because I did not like to speak against the boy,” said Mrs. Briggs, only slightly discomfited. “I read it in his face the first day he came here. I saw he was sly and underhanded.”

“Well, I didn’t,” said Randolph, who was less malignant than his mother. “I never thought he 183would do such a thing. I didn’t like him, of course, but still I thought he was honest.”

“I have lived longer in the world than you, Randolph,” said Mrs. Briggs, sagaciously, “and I know that appearances are deceitful. I am not so easily taken in as your father. He has been infatuated about this disreputable boy. I hope the knowledge of the boy’s baseness will cure him.”

“I suppose we needn’t invite Gilbert to my party, now?”

“No, of course not,” said Mrs. Briggs, with emphasis. “It would be an insult to you to invite a boy convicted of theft.”

“Father may insist upon it,” said Randolph.

“Not unless he is bereft of his senses,” said Mrs. Briggs. “He has made a point of it till now; but, of course, this will change his wishes.”

Randolph did not reply; but, notwithstanding his mother’s assurance, he felt some doubts on the subject. His father was, in general, yielding and easily managed; but, as is often the case with such men, he was, at times, unexpectedly firm.

184This conversation took place just before dinner. It was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Briggs, who went upstairs at once to prepare for dinner. Fifteen minutes later they met around the dinner-table. By arrangement with Randolph, Mrs. Briggs had reserved to herself the pleasure of imparting to her husband the news she had heard.

“I have heard some news to-day, Mr. Briggs,” she commenced, in a premonitory tone.

“Indeed, my dear! Pleasant news, I hope.”

“I don’t think it will be pleasant to you, though, I must confess, it is only what I have all along anticipated.”

“You speak in enigmas, Mrs. Briggs. Will you kindly be a little more explicit?”

“You are aware, Mr. Briggs, that I have always had a very unfavorable opinion of your protegé, the Greyson boy?”

“You certainly have not concealed your opinion of him,” said her husband, shrugging his shoulders. “Yes, I may say that I know your opinion of him.”

185“I suppose you call it prejudice,” continued the lady.

“Well, it certainly seems like it, not being founded on the knowledge of anything to his detriment.”

“That was not necessary. There is such a thing as reading character. I judged him by his face.”

“He seems to me to h............