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"Aw, say, Bill," protested Maurice, "I'm tired an' wet as a water-logged plank. Let her go. I'll tell Dad, an' he kin come after her tomorrow." "Nothing of the sort. I am sure of it!" exclaimed Miss Acton. "Who hears of such outrages happening here?" Whistling soundlessly, Billy went up the path to the house. He peered carefully in through the screened door. The room was empty and so was the pantry beyond. Billy entered, tiptoed softly across to the pantry and filled his pockets with doughnuts from the big crock in the cupboard. Then he tip-toed softly out again..

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"Exactly. And, Benjamin, kin you imagine the old deacon's face in the mornin' when he sees what we've done?" And the two cronies went off laughing over their prospective raid. Mrs. Keeler, who heard the voice without catching Mrs. Wilson's words, struggled up. Croaker promptly sailed over to Maurice for protection. The boy broke the string attached to the note from Billy and reaching behind him secured from a plate a scrap of the dinner he had left uneaten. "Here Croaker," he whispered, "grab it quick. Now, back you go where things are safe," and he tossed the bird into the air. Croaker flew to a tree-top and proceeded to enjoy the reward of service well rendered. Anson, striving to keep his head above a shiny collar, about which was twisted a flaming red tie, was just issuing from the stairs. His mother opened her hand to display her gold piece, then closed it again. "You go right back upstairs and take off Willium's collar and tie," she commanded. The deacon, a florid, full-whiskered man of about sixty, glowered about him. No one present thought of disputing his assertion. The deacon was a power in the community..