ced upon me that my nephew--No, I'll discard him.
If this really is true, and he is proved to be a pitiful, unmanly,
contemptible thief, I have done with him for ever."

"No, no, sir," said the Doctor. "You shall not say that. You are a
Christian, and you belie your own belief."

"Belie it or no, sir, I cannot bear this!" cried my uncle fiercely.
"Now, Frank, speak out. Did you take that contemptible toy?"

"No, uncle," I said firmly.

"Come: that's something. That's the truth or a lie. That wretched
fellow says he saw you with the watch in your hand: is that true?"

"Yes, uncle."

"That he saw you hide it in the box?"

"Yes, uncle."

"You locked it up there?"

"Yes, uncle."

"Another question: did you know whose watch it was?"

"Yes, uncle."

"And that it was stolen?"

"Yes, uncle."

"And you were not going to speak about it being in your possession?"

"No, uncle."

There was a terrible pause, and in the midst of the silence, my uncle
went on.

"One word or two more, sir. On the day the watch was missed, you
refused to play?"

"Yes, uncle."

"And you went and lay down near the tent?"

"Yes, uncle; I had been very ill."

There was another pause, followed by a low murmur among those present,
and then, in a fierce voice full of contemptuous rage, my uncle
thundered,--

"Now, sir, have you any more to say?" and my mother sank back in her
seat with a low moan.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

"Now, sir, have you any more to say?"

A simple enough question, but when spoken to me sternly before those
present, in my uncle's fierce, military voice, and accompanied by looks
that seemed crushing in their contempt, they were very hard to bear in
that strange silence which followed.

There they all stood and sat about me, while I felt like a prisoner at
the bar before my judge. It was terrible, and I wavered.

Should I speak, and accuse poor, weak, amiable Tom Mercer, and send him
away in disgrace, or should I suffer now, and wait till the truth came
out by and by?

I was deciding on the latter, when I heard a sob which seemed to echo in
my throat, and I looked up quickly from where my eyes had rested on a
particular spot in the pattern of the library carpet, to see my mother's
convulsed face and yearning eyes fixed upon me, as Mrs Doctor stood by
her side, holding her hand quite affectionately.

That look decided me.

"Poor Tom," I said to myself, "I must throw you over for her sake;" and
my