"But they think I did. Everybody thinks so."

"Tell yer everybody don't think so," cried Jem, sharply. "I don't, and
as for them, they've all got dust in their eyes, that's what's the
matter with them, and they can't see clear. But didn't you tell 'em as
you didn't?"

"Yes, Jem," said Don, despondently; "at first."

"Then why didn't you at last, too? Here, cheer up, my lad; it'll all
blow over and be forgotten, same as the row was about that
sugar-hogshead as I let them take away. I don't say shake hands 'cause
you're like master and me only man, but I shakes hands with you in my
'art, my lad, and I says, don't be down over it."

"You couldn't shake hands with a thief, you mean, Jem," said Don,
bitterly.

"Look here, Mas' Don, I can't punch your head because, as aforesaid,
you're young master, and I'm only man; but for that there same what you
said just now I hits you in my 'art. Thief indeed! But ah, my lad, it
was a pity as you ever let Mike come into the office to tell you his
lies about furren parts."

"Yes, Jem, it was."

"When you might ha' got all he told you out o' books, and the stories
wouldn't ha' been quite so black."

"Ah, well, it's all over now."

"What's all over?"

"My life here, Jem. I shall go right away."

"Go? What?"

"Right away. Abroad, I think."

"And what'll your mother do?"

"Forget me, I hope. I always was an unlucky fellow Jem."

"What d'yer mean? Run away?"

"Yes, I shall go away."

"Well, that's clever, that is. Why, that's just the way to make 'em
think you did it. Tshah! You stop like a man and face it out."

"When everybody believes me guilty?"

"Don't be so precious aggrawatin', my lad," cried Jem, plaintively.
"Don't I keep on a-telling you that I don't believe you guilty. Why,
I'd just as soon believe that I stole our sugar and sold bundles of
tobacco-leaves to the marine store shops."

Don shook his head.

"Well, of all the aggrawatin' chaps I ever did see, you're 'bout the
worst, Mas' Don. Don't I tell you it'll be all right?"

"No, Jem, it will not be all right. I shall have to go before the
magistrates."

"Well, what of that?"

"What of that?" cried Don, passionately. "Why, that scoundrel Mike will
keep to his story."

"Let him!" cried Jem, contemptuously. "Why, who'd ever believe him i'
preference to you?"

"My uncle--my mother--my cousin."

"Not they, my boy. They don't believe it. They only think they do.
They're