"Worse than sick," he replied as they passed into the house
together. "George has been forging my name."

"Impossible!" exclaimed Mrs. Dinneford.

"I wish it were," replied Mr. Dinneford, sadly; "but, alas! it is
too true. I have just returned from the Fourth National Bank. They
have a note for three thousand dollars, bearing my signature. It is
drawn to the order of George Granger, and endorsed by him. The note
is a forgery."

Mrs. Dinneford became almost wild with excitement. Her fair face
grew purple. Her eyes shone with a fierce light.

"Have you had him arrested?" she asked.

"Oh no, no, no!" Mr. Dinneford answered. "For poor Edith's sake, if
for nothing else, this dreadful business must be kept secret. I will
take up the note when due, and the public need be none the wiser."

"If," said Mrs. Dinneford, "he has forged your name once, he has, in
all probability, done it again and again. No, no; the thing can't be
hushed up, and it must not be. Is he less a thief and a robber
because he is our son-in-law? My daughter the wife of a forger!
Great heavens! has it come to this Mr. Dinneford?" she added, after
a pause, and with intense bitterness and rejection in her voice.
"The die is cast! Never again, if I can prevent it, shall that
scoundrel cross our threshold. Let the law have its course. It is a
crime to conceal crime."