It may seem to you rather a blundering contrivance for a clever young man to bury the guineas.  But, if everything had turned out as David had calculated, you would have seen that his plan was worthy of his talents.  The guineas would have lain safely in the earth while the theft was discovered, and David, with the calm of conscious innocence, would have lingered at home, reluctant to say good-bye to his dear mother while she was in grief about her guineas; till at length, on the eve of his departure, he would have disinterred them in the strictest privacy, and carried them on his own person without inconvenience.  But David, you perceive, had reckoned without his host, or, to speak more precisely, without his idiot brother—­an item of so uncertain and fluctuating a character, that I doubt whether he would not have puzzled the astute heroes of M. de Balzac, whose foresight is so remarkably at home in the future.

It was clear to David now that he had only one alternative before him:  he must either renounce the guineas, by quietly putting them back in his mother’s drawer (a course not unattended with difficulty); or he must leave more than a suspicion behind him, by departing early the next morning without giving notice, and with the guineas in his pocket.  For if he gave notice that he was going, his mother, he knew, would insist on fetching from her box of guineas the three she had always promised him as his share; indeed, in his original plan, he had counted on this as a means by which the theft would be discovered under circumstances that would themselves speak for his innocence; but now, as I need hardly explain, that well-combined plan was completely frustrated.  Even if David could have bribed Jacob with perpetual lozenges, an idiot’s secrecy is itself betrayal.  He dared not even go to tea at Mr. Lunn’s, for in that case he would have lost sight of Jacob, who, in his impatience for the crop of lozenges, might scratch up the box again while he was absent, and carry it home—­depriving him at once of reputation and guineas.  No! he must think of nothing all the rest of this day, but of coaxing Jacob and keeping him out of mischief.  It was a fatiguing and anxious evening to David; nevertheless, he dared not go to sleep without tying a piece of string to his thumb and great toe, to secure his frequent waking; for he meant to be up with the first peep of dawn, and be far out of reach before breakfast-time.  His father, he thought, would certainly cut him off with a shilling; but what then?  Such a striking young man as he would be sure to be well received in the West Indies:  in foreign countries there are always openings—­even for cats.  It was probable that some Princess Yarico would want him to marry her, and make him presents of very large jewels beforehand; after which, he needn’t marry her unless he liked.  David had made up his mind not to steal any more, even from people who were fond of him:  it was an unpleasant way of making your fortune in a world where you were likely to surprised in the act by brothers.  Such alarms did not agree with David’s constitution, and he had felt so much nausea this evening that no doubt his liver was affected.  Besides, he would have been greatly hurt not to be thought well of in the world:  he always meant to make a figure, and be thought worthy of the best seats and the best morsels.