A quarter of an hour after leaving the church, Jared was at the door of
the vicar's residence, where his summons was answered by the old
Lincolnshire woman who had come up to London with "Maister," and filled
the posts of cook and housekeeper.
Now, most people would have told their servants to say, "Not at home,"
to such-and-such a person; but the vicar had his own ideas upon such
matters, and the old woman was ready for the expected visitor, for she
exclaimed--
"Maister said he wouldn't see you, if you called, Mr Pellet; and if you
wanted to say anything, you was to write."
"But did he say"--ventured Jared.
"No; he didn't say not another word," said the old housekeeper; and
Jared turned disconsolately away, walking down the street in a
purposeless manner, until, moved by another idea, he roused himself and
hurried in the direction of Mr Timson's stores, where he found the head
of the establishment, very stern and important, in his counting-house,
but apparently ready to listen to reason.
"It's all a mistake, sir; I'm as innocent as a child," exclaimed Jared.
"Hadn't you better shut the door first, sir?" said Timson, drily; when
Jared hurriedly closed the glass-door of communication with the
warehouse. "That's better," said he. "As well not to let all the world
know."
"It's all a mistake though, Mr Timson," again exclaimed Jared.
"Just so--just so, Mr Pellet, sir; but prove it;" and Timson thrust his
fingers into his waistcoat, and then drew himself back as far as he
could.
"That key has been in my locker for weeks and weeks now," said Jared.
"I saw it lying there, and thought it might have been left by somebody.
It never occurred to me that it would open the poor-boxes."
Mr Timson raised his eyebrows, and looked deeply into the account-book
before him, and then he placed three fingers upon the three columns--
pounds, shillings, and pence--and slowly and methodically thrust them up
the paper, as if calculating the amount of all three at one and the same
time. He muttered, too, several indistinct words, which sounded like
the names of various sums of money, before he turned again to Jared.
"I always told the vicar it was false keys, Mr Pellet; but if we've put
the saddle upon the wrong horse, or the boot upon the wrong foot, why
the wearer must kick it off, sir."
"But you don't think that I did it, sir?" exclaimed Jared, pitifully.
"Well, I don't know, Mr Pellet--I don't know," said the churchwarden.
"I don't know, indeed, sir. I don't want to think it's you; but what
are we to do? Mr Gray comes to me, lays his hand on my shoulder, and he
says--only last night, mind, sir"--(Mr Timson had his apron on, and
therefore he said "sir")--"`Timson, I've found out the culprit'."
"`Then I hope you're satisfied, sir,' I said.
"`No,' he said, `no, not at all; I've found him out, but now I wish to
goodness that I had not, for it seems a cruel thing.'
"`Who is it, sir?' I said.
"`Oh!' he said, `it's poor Pellet I found a false key at the bottom of
his book-locker when I took the organist of St Chrysostom's to try our
instrument.'
"`Pooh!' I said, `nonsense, sir! stuff!'
"`What!' he says; `why, you suspected him yourself, and said you were
sure he was the culprit only the other day.'"
"Oh Mr Timson!" groaned Jared. "Now don't you be in a hurry," grumbled
the churchwarden, pettishly. "Hear me out, can't you. You young
fellows always will be so rash."