Chapter 9

THE STOLEN WALLET

At school the next day, the club boat was the principal topic of conversation among the boys. Those who had been invited to join the club were regarded as especially fortunate. Frank Sedley was a distinguished personage, and even Tim Bunker unbent himself in some measure from his ferocious dignity in his attempts to conciliate him.

"I say, Frank, you will give me a sail in your boat, won't you?" said Tim.

"I should be very glad to accommodate you, but I don't think my father will let me take any boys who do not belong to the club."

"Can't I join the club?"

"It is full now."

"You can just make room for one more if you have a mind to."

"There are only twelve oars."

The school-bell rang then, and Frank was glad to escape further importunity on the subject. Tim Bunker was dissatisfied with himself and everybody else. He had seen the magnificent boat which Frank owned, and in which he and his companions had had such a glorious time on the preceding afternoon. He envied them the possession of the Zephyr, and he would have given anything to be permitted to join the club. Perhaps he would even have promised to become a better boy, for he keenly felt the weight of those moral obliquities which excluded him from the society of Frank and his friends.

But more especially did he envy Tony Weston his good luck in getting into the club; for Tony's admission was abundant evidence that the social standing of the boys had not been taken into consideration. There was no rich and poor about it; it was good and evil entirely. And Tim had always cherished a strong feeling of dislike, and even hatred, towards the poor widow's son, undoubtedly because he was a good boy, and everybody liked him. He had not forgotten Tony's interference on the island, when he was about to thrash Frank Sedley; and among the Bunkers he expressed his intention to be fully revenged.

At recess Frank, Charles, and Tony went up to a neighbor's house close by to get some water. When they had drunk, and were passing through the wood-house to return, Charles observed an old wallet lying on a bench.

"Twig!" said he in his peculiar style.

"That must be Farmer Whipple's," replied Tony.

"Probably the farmer laid it down when he was paying somebody some money," added Frank.

"I will carry it to him," said Charles. "He is out in the garden."

"Don't meddle with it," answered Tony. "We will see him, and tell him it is here."

"But somebody might steal it in the meantime."

"Nobody will; I wouldn't meddle with it."

The boys walked off towards the schoolhouse, but they did not find the farmer in the garden.

"He was here when we came up," said Tony. "I will find him;" and he walked towards the barn, while Charles and Frank continued on their way.

Tony looked all about the premises, but he did not find the farmer. Returning to the wood-house, he found that the wallet was gone.

"Hello, Tony," said Tim Bunker, at this moment entering the wood-house, and going to the well for a drink.

"Have you seen Farmer Whipple, Tim?"

"Yes; he just went into the house," replied the chief of the Bunkers.

"Which way did he go in?"

"Right through this way. He was just ahead of you when you came from the barn."

"Oh, was he?" said Tony, much relieved.

The farmer had taken his wallet then as he passed through, and he was satisfied it was all right.

"I say, Tony, what were you doing out to the barn? Hooking eggs, eh?"

"I was not," answered Tony indignantly.

"Honor bright?"

"_I_ am not a thief."

"I'll bet you ain't," drawled Tim, placing his thumb against his nose, and wagging his four fingers back and forth.

Tony heard the school-bell ring, and waiting for no more, ran off with all his speed. Tim was so late that Mr. Hyde, the master, gave him a sharp reproof for loitering by the way.

Tim Bunker's seat was next to Tony's; and though the former persisted in annoying him, whispering in his ear something about "sucking eggs," he tried to be patient and good-natured. But at last, when he could endure it no more, he informed against him.

"What do you mean by 'sucking eggs,' Tim?" asked Mr. Hyde, after he had called him on the platform.

"I saw Tony skulking round Farmer Whipple's barn at recess."

"Did you see him have an egg?"

"No, sir; but I thought he had been eating something."

Mr. Hyde investigated the case fully, and Tim got punished for his conduct in annoying his schoolmate.

School was dismissed as usual, and the boys went home. In the afternoon Tony had some work to do, and did not come.

A few minutes after two, when the boys were all in, Farmer Whipple entered the room, apparently in a high state of excitement.

"Where is Tony Weston?" said he.

"He is absent this afternoon," replied Mr. Hyde.

"I lost my pocket-book this morning."

"Indeed!"

"I saw Tony Weston and the Bunker boy in the woodshed a little before."

"It was Tim Bunker, then," added Mr. Hyde in a low tone.

"I think's likely," continued Farmer Whipple; "but Tony was there too."

"I will state the case, and see if the boys know anything about it," said the master.

Mr. Hyde called the attention of the boys by ringing a little bell on his desk, and then mentioned the loss which Farmer Whipple had met with.

"If any scholar knows anything about it, let him signify it."

Frank and Charles raised their hands.

"Frank?"

"I saw a black wallet lying on the bench when we went up after some water."

"Who were with you?"

"Tony and Charles."

"Any one else?"

"No, sir."

"Why did you not take charge of it, and give it to Mr. Whipple?"

"Tony thought we had better not touch it, and we decided to tell Mr. Whipple it was there as we went through the garden."

"But you didn't tell me," said the farmer.

"No, sir; we didn't find you in the garden when we came back, and Tony went to look for you while we continued on our way."

"Has Tony said anything to you about it since?" asked Mr. Hyde.

"Yes, sir; he told us after school that he didn't find Mr. Whipple, and when he went back to the wood-house, the wallet was gone. He met Tim Bunker there, who told him the owner had just gone in that way."

"Now I think on't, I paid a little bill, and I recollect of laying the wallet down on the wash-bench," said Farmer Whipple.

"And Tim Bunker was there?" asked the master.

"Not while we were," replied Charles.

"Tim?"

"Sir," answered the chief of the Bunkers promptly.

"Do you know anything about this wallet?"

"Don't know nothing about it."

"Were you up there?"

"Yes, sir."

"You saw Tony there?"

"Yes, sir; when I was going up, I saw him come out of the barn and go into the wood-house."

"Did you see Mr. Whipple?"

"No, sir."

Frank and Charles looked at each other. Tim's story differed from Tony's.

"You saw Tony in the woodshed?"

"When I went in, he was tucking away something in his pocket."

Tony's friends were utterly confounded by this bold statement.

"You didn't see what it was, did you?" inquired Mr. Hyde, pained by the turn the affair was taking.

"I didn't. I thought it was an egg at first. He was kind of struck up when I entered, and asked me if I had seen Farmer Whipple. I told him I hadn't. The bell rang then, and he cut away to school."

Tim's story seemed plausible, but the master could not harbor a suspicion that Tony was guilty of theft.

"Which pocket was it, Tim?" asked Farmer Whipple.

"The side pocket of his linen sack."

"Which side?"

"The left-hand side."

"That will do," said Mr. Hyde; and he and Mr. Whipple conferred on the subject.

Frank was amazed. Tony steal the wallet! Impossible! He never could do such a thing.

The conference ended, and Farmer Whipple left the schoolroom. Returning to his house, he harnessed his horse, and drove down to Squire Murdock's, the magistrate, to procure a warrant for the arrest of Tony. This he obtained; and after getting a constable to serve it, he drove to the widow Weston's.

Tony was in the garden picking some currants to sell the following morning. He was hard at work, and his coat lay upon a bush near him.

Farmer Whipple and the constable jumped over the fence and approached him.

"How do you do, Mr. Whipple?" said Tony, suspending his occupation. "How do you do, Mr. Headley?"

"I am sorry to trouble you, Tony; but we've got some suspicions agin you," began Farmer Whipple.

"Against me!" exclaimed Tony, with a glance at the constable.

"Sorry for it, but it looks bad agin you."

"What have I done?" asked the poor boy, alarmed by the words of the farmer.

"I lost my wallet this morning, and Tim Bunker says he saw you tucking something into your pocket," replied Farmer Whipple, proceeding to detail all the circumstances.

"I am innocent!" pleaded Tony.

"But you were there?"

"I was there;" and Tony told his story just as he had related it to Frank Sedley.

"All that may be; but you see, Tony, things are against you. Tim's story is as straight as can be. This is your coat, ain't it?"

"Yes; you can examine that, and search the house if you like."

The constable took the coat. The pockets were filled with various articles known in the vocabulary of a schoolboy. Mr. Headley thrust his hand in, and Tony confidently waited the result. Several things were taken out and returned. It was not in that pocket.

But the first thing the constable drew out of the other pocket was Farmer Whipple's wallet!

"No use, Tony," said Mr. Headley.

"I did not know it was there; I did not put it there!" protested the poor boy, whose face was as white as a sheet.

"You must come with me, Tony; I never would have believed it," said the constable.

The widow Weston was called, and a statement of the case made to her. Poor, loving, devoted mother! her heart was wrung with agony. But there was a consolation for her. Tony could not be a thief. He was innocent, she was sure, however strong appearances might point to his guilt.

The constable took him into the wagon; and Farmer Whipple drove off to the Rippleton jail, which was located in the village. Tony had never in his life been so utterly cast down as when he looked into the cell to which he was conducted. But he realized that he was not guilty, and this feeling made the prison less terrible to him.