“Mercy me!” exclaimed Aunt Abby; “maybe he won’t—but I don’t like boys prowling among my things!” and she scurried after him.
She found him in her room, and rather gruffly said, “What are you up to, boy?”
“Snuff, ma’am,” he replied, with a comical wink, which ought to have shocked the old lady, but which, somehow, had a contrary effect.
“Do you like candy?” she asked—unnecessarily, she knew—and offered him a box from a drawer.
Fibsy felt that a verbal answer was not called for, and, helping himself, proceeded to munch the sweets, contentedly and continuously.
“Say,” he burst out, after a thoughtful study of the room, “where was that there dropper thing found, anyhow?”
“In this medicine chest—”
“Naw; I mean where’d the girl find it?—the housework girl.”
“You seem to know a lot about the matter!”
“Sure I do. Where’d you say?”