Driven from Home; Or, Carl Crawford's Experience. Alger Horatio Jr.

far as you know.”

      “If the money has really disappeared, madam, you had better ask your own boy about it.”

      “This is insufferable!” exclaimed Mrs. Crawford, her light eyes emitting angry flashes. “Who dares to say that Peter took the wallet?” she went on, rising to her feet.

      There was an unexpected reply. Jane entered the room at this moment to ask a question.

      “I say so, ma’am,” she rejoined.

      “What?” ejaculated Mrs. Crawford, with startling emphasis.

      “I didn’t mean to say anything about it till I found you were charging it on Master Carl. I saw Peter open your bureau drawer, take out the wallet, and put it in his pocket.”

      “It’s a lie!” said Mrs. Crawford, hoarsely.

      “It’s the truth, though I suppose you don’t want to believe it. If you want to know what he did with the money ask him how much he paid for the gold ring he bought of the jeweler down at the village.”

      “You are a spy—a base, dishonorable spy!” cried Mrs. Crawford.

      “I won’t say what you are, ma’am, to bring false charges against Master Carl, and I wonder the doctor will believe them.”

      “Leave the house directly, you hussy!” shrieked Mrs. Crawford.

      “If I do, I wonder who’ll get the dinner?” remarked Jane, not at all disturbed.

      “I won’t stay here to be insulted,” said the angry lady. “Dr. Crawford, you might have spirit enough to defend your wife.”

      She flounced out of the room, not waiting for a reply, leaving the doctor dazed and flurried.

      “I hope, sir, you are convinced now that Carl did not take Mrs. Crawford’s money,” said Gilbert. “I told you it was probably Peter.”

      “Are you sure of what you said, Jane?” asked the doctor.

      “Yes, sir. I saw Peter take the wallet with my own eyes.”

      “It is his mother’s money, and they must settle it between them I am glad Carl did not take it. Really, this has been a very unpleasant scene.”

      “I am sorry for my part in it. Carl is my friend, and I feel that I ought to stand up for his rights,” remarked Gilbert.

      “Certainly, certainly, that is right. But you see how I am placed.”

      “I see that this is no place for Carl. If you will allow me, I will send an expressman for the trunk, and take it with me to the station.”

      “Yes, I see no objection. I—I would invite you to dinner, but Mrs. Crawford seems to be suffering from a nervous attack, and it might not be pleasant.”

      “I agree with you, sir.”

      Just then Peter entered the room, and looked at Gilbert with surprise and wrath, remembering his recent discomfiture at the hands of the young visitor.

      “My stepson, Peter,” announced Dr. Crawford.

      “Peter and I have met before,” said Gilbert, smiling.

      “What are you here for?” asked Peter, rudely.

      “Not to see you,” answered Gilbert, turning from him.

      “My mother’ll have something to say to you,” went on Peter, significantly.

      “She will have something to say to you,” retorted Gilbert. “She has found out who stole her money.”

      Peter’s face turned scarlet instantly, and he left the room hurriedly.

      “Perhaps I ought not to have said that, Dr Crawford,” added Gilbert, apologetically, “but I dislike that boy very much, and couldn’t help giving him as good as he sent.”

      “It is all very unpleasant,” responded Dr. Crawford, peevishly. “I don’t see why I can’t live in peace and tranquility.”

      “I won’t intrude upon you any longer,” said Gilbert, “if you will kindly tell me whether you will consent to make Carl a small weekly allowance.”

      “I can’t say now. I want time to think. Give me your address, and I will write to Carl in your care.”

      “Very well, sir.”

      Gilbert left the house and made arrangements to have Carl’s trunk called for. It accompanied him on the next train to Warren.

      CHAPTER VI

      Mrs. CRAWFORD’S LETTER

      “How did you like my stepmother?” asked Carl, when Gilbert returned in the afternoon.

      “She’s a daisy!” answered Gilbert, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t think I ever saw a more disagreeable woman.”

      “Do you blame me for leaving home?”

      “I only wonder you have been able to stay so long. I had a long conversation with your father.”

      “Mrs. Crawford has made a different man of him. I should have no trouble in getting along with him if there was no one to come between us.”

      “He gave me this for you,” said Gilbert, producing the ten-dollar bill.

      “Did my stepmother know of his sending it?”

      “No; she was opposed to sending your trunk, but your father said emphatically you should have it.”

      “I am glad he showed that much spirit.”

      “I have some hopes that he will make you an allowance of a few dollars a week.”

      “That would make me all right, but I don’t expect it.”

      “You will probably hear from your father to-morrow or next day, so you will have to make yourself contented a little longer.”

      “I hope you are not very homesick, Mr. Crawford?” said Julia, coquettishly.

      “I would ask nothing better than to stay here permanently,” rejoined Carl, earnestly. “This is a real home. I have met with more kindness here than in six months at my own home.”

      “You have one staunch friend at home,” said Gilbert.

      “You don’t allude to Peter?”

      “So far as I can judge, he hates you like poison. I mean Jane.”

      “Yes, Jane is a real friend. She has been in the family for ten years. She was a favorite with my own mother, and feels an interest in me.”

      “By the way, your stepmother’s charge that you took a wallet containing money from her drawer has been disproved by Jane. She saw Peter abstracting the money, and so informed Mrs. Crawford.”

      “I am not at all surprised. Peter is mean enough to steal or do anything else. What did my stepmother say?”

      “She was very angry, and threatened to discharge Jane; but, as no one would be left to attend to the dinner, I presume she is likely to stay.”

      “I ought to be forming some plan,” said Carl, thoughtfully.

      “Wait till you hear from home. Julia will see that your time is well filled up till then. Dismiss all care, and enjoy yourself while you may.”

      This seemed to be sensible advice, and Carl followed it. In the evening some young people were invited in, and there was a round of amusements that made Carl forget that he was an exile from home, with very dubious prospects.

      “You are all spoiling me,” he said, as Gilbert and he went upstairs to bed. “I am beginning to understand the charms of home. To go out into the world from here will be like taking a cold shower bath.”

      “Never forget, Carl, that you will be welcome back, whenever you feel like coming,” said Gilbert, laying his band affectionately on Carl’s shoulder. “We all like you here.”

      “Thank you, old fellow! I appreciate the kindness I