"Gum! do you forget that he had left off his evil ways, and was coming
home to be a comfort to us?"

"No, I don't forget it," returned Mr. Gum. "But who was to say that the
mood would last? He might have got through his gold, however much it was,
and then--. As it is, Nance Gum, we can sleep quiet in our beds, free
from _that_ fear."

Clerk Gum was not, on the whole, a model of suavity in the domestic fold.
The first blow that had fallen upon him seemed to have affected his
temper; and his helpmate knew from experience that whenever he called her
"Nance" his mood was at its worst.

Suppressing a sob, she spoke reproachfully.

"It's my firm belief, Gum, and has been all along, that you cared more
for your good name among men than you did for the boy."

"Perhaps I did," he answered, by way of retort. "At any rate, it might
have been better for him in the long-run if we--both you and me--hadn't
cared for him quite so foolishly in his childhood; we spared the rod and
we spoiled the child. That's over, and--"

"It's _all_ over," interrupted Mrs. Gum; "over for ever in this world.
Gum, you are very hard-hearted."

"And," he continued, with composure, "we may hope now to live down in
time the blow he brought upon us, and hold up our heads again in the face
of Calne. We couldn't have done that while he lived."