When they entered the parlor Caleb had thrown down his hat and was seated at his desk.
“What! Fred, my boy!” he said, in a tone of mild surprise, holding his pen still undipped; “you are here betimes.” But missing the usual expression of cheerful greeting in Fred’s face, he immediately added, “Is there anything up at home?—anything the matter?”
“Yes, Mr. Garth, I am come to tell something that I am afraid will give you a bad opinion of me. I am come to tell you and Mrs. Garth that I can’t keep my word. I can’t find the money to meet the bill after all. I have been unfortunate; I have only got these fifty pounds towards the hundred and sixty.”
While Fred was speaking, he had taken out the notes and laid them on the desk before Mr. Garth. He had burst forth at once with the plain fact, feeling boyishly miserable and without verbal resources. Mrs. Garth was mutely astonished, and looked at her husband for an explanation. Caleb blushed, and after a little pause said—
“Oh, I didn’t tell you, Susan: I put my name to a bill for Fred; it was for a hundred and sixty pounds. He made sure he could meet it himself.”
There was an evident change in Mrs. Garth’s face, but it was like a change below the surface of water which remains smooth. She fixed her eyes on Fred, saying—
“I suppose you have asked your father for the rest of the money and he has refused you.”