"Under the carriages."
"Where?"
His fancy suggested a place, where many carriages used to stand together. "By the timber-yard opposite the lane by the smith's."
This specification of the place lent an air of probability to his story. His father was now certain that he had elicited the truth from him. He continued:
"And how could you get them off merely with your fingers?"
He had not expected this question, but his eye fell on his father's tool-box.
"With a screw-driver."
Now one cannot take hold of nuts with a screw-driver, but his father was excited, and let himself be deceived.
"But that is abominable! You are really a thief. Suppose a policeman had come by."
John thought for a moment of quieting him by telling him that the whole affair was made up, but the prospect of getting another caning and no supper held him mute. When he had gone to bed in the evening, and his mother had come and told him to say his evening prayer, he said in a pathetic tone and raising his hand: