"Who ever heard of a thief in Kisington!" exclaimed the mother. "Who could it be? I never saw a shawl like this. Let us examine what she has taken, the wicked old creature!"
Harold got a candle, and presently returned to the pantry, where his mother was groping among the smashed crockery for some other clue to the thief. When the light flickered on the pantry shelves the mother gave a scream of surprise and anger. "My six beautiful pies!" she exclaimed. "The thief has stolen my six beautiful apple pies! Oh, what a wicked old soul!"
"Those lovely pies!" groaned Harold. "See, Mother, she has gobbled one and left the empty plate. The others she has taken away with her."
"I wish they may choke her!" cried the mother angrily. "Now you will have none to take to your Red King to-morrow. I was going to save the finest of all for him, in the hope that it would soften his hard heart."
"It will never soften his heart nor please his stomach now, Mother," said Harold ruefully. "And still more I regret the other five pies which I know you meant for me. When shall we ever see such pies again?"
"They were made from the last of the flour and apples and sugar sent you in gratitude by the Leading Citizens," said Harold's mother sadly. "I am sorry your reward is thus wasted, my poor boy! What spiteful neighbor could have spied them through the pantry window and planned this midnight raid at our expense?"
Harold shook his head mournfully. "I do not know any one in Kisington whom I could suspect," he said. "Come, Mother, let us go back to bed. To-morrow we will look further into the matter. We have at least this handsome shawl as one clue, which if it does not find us the thief will be very nice for you to wear."
They went to bed again, and slept until morning.
Now in the morning before school Harold took the shawl and went to his friend the Librarian and told him what had happened during the night. The Librarian was greatly shocked to hear of a theft in town and went with Harold straight to the Lord Mayor.
The Mayor examined the shawl carefully and shook his head. "This is very strange!" he said. "This is no shawl made in Kisington, or in our Kingdom. It is a strange foreign shawl, and very valuable. I am glad to believe that the thief must have been a foreigner, or a gypsy, or a vagrant of some sort. But how did she find her way into our guarded city? I must look into this! Meanwhile, my lad, since you have suffered loss and damage to your pantry and to your feelings the Leading Citizens will see that you are made whole at their expense; I will answer for their gratitude to you."