"No, no! not that, my son," he answered, his eyes wavering, as men's will who are weak or seek to mislead you.
"No, he is well; as well as you are," he answered, glancing toward his wife, as if asking her aid.
"Then what is the matter? I know you are keeping something from me?" I persisted.
"There is nothing the matter; or nothing you could help one way or the other," he answered, his embarrassment growing greater.
"Tell me what it is, then?" I cried, feeling sure he was hiding something from me.
"There, don't get excited, my son. It's nothing, I'm sure, if the truth were known," he answered, floundering about in his speech.
"Nothing!" I answered, forgetting myself and laying hold of his arm. "What is it, then?"
"It's nothing bad, anyway," he replied, sweat starting from his forehead; "only a bit queer, maybe, but that's all."
"What is it that's queer?" I exclaimed, ready to fly at his throat, so great was my rage at his continued attempt to evade my inquiry.
"Strange, I had better have said," he answered, closing his mouth as if nothing would induce him to say more.
"What's strange?" I persisted. "Whatever it is, I am sure Uncle Job would want me to know."
"Don't keep him in suspense longer, dear," Mrs. Blake here interposed. "It can't do any good."
"Is it best?" he asked, as if not agreeing with her.
"Yes; for it can't be kept from him forever," she answered.
"Well, then, my son," he spoke up at last, with sorrowful voice, "your Uncle has been arrested, but none of us believes he has done anything wrong, and know that it will all be cleared up at last."
"Arrested!" I exclaimed, scarce able to speak; "Uncle Job arrested, and for what?"
"Oh, the charge is of no account. It is not true, of course. It can't be; every one says that!" Mr. Blake went on, the effort to talk and to lighten the force of what he was saying being altogether beyond him.
"Tell him, my dear; it will do no good now to keep anything back," Mrs. Blake spoke up again, putting her arm about me as a mother might a stricken child.
"All right; you know best, my dear, I suppose. Well, then, my son, your uncle is accused of taking--taking money, but no one believes he stole it."
"Uncle Job steal money!" I cried, too much overcome to say more.