“I stole some of that stuff you girls had for your party,” replied Hiram Pease, grinning. “And I took other things. I found that flight of steps up into the cellar of the Hall. So I could get to the kitchen at night.
“And then I worked around for some of the folks that live up on the back road; and others gave me things——”
“And I guess you helped yourself to some of my pigeons and squabs,” put in Walter, with some disgust. “I found where you roasted them.”
“Well! I had to eat somehow,” pleaded Hiram, in defense. “And if I ever get my money, I’ll pay you back.”
“What’ll we do with him?” asked Walter, of the girls.
“You take him home and feed him and give him an old overcoat to wear,” said the practical Nan.
“All right.”
“And let him tell your father about his money—if that’s true,” said Nan, more doubtfully. “Your father is a lawyer. He will know just what to do.”
“All right!” cried Walter, again. “I’ll do that. Come on, Hiram Beans——”
“Pease.”