"I'm afraid you're trying to draw water from an empty well, son; better try some other green fields and pastures new."
"I know it, Mr. Stone, but s'pose you just speak to the innocent before you go away. You can tell if he knows anything."
"Why should Sam steal the pin?" Iris asked, her eyes big with amazement.
"You can't tell what such people will do," Fibsy returned. "He may have seen you hiding it, as he says he did, and he may have come in and stolen it, just because of a mere whimsey in his brain. Is he around here much?"
"Quite a good deal, of late. He's fond of Agnes, and he trails her about, like a dog after its master. Aunt Ursula wouldn't have him around much when she was here, but Miss Darrel doesn't mind."
"I don't like him," said Lucille, "but I am sorry for him, and he does adore Agnes. I think he ought to be put in an institution."
"Oh, no," said Iris, "he isn't bad enough for that. He's not really insane, just feeble-minded. He's perfectly harmless."
"Bring him in here," suggested Stone.
Fibsy ran out, and came back with the half-witted boy.
"Hello, Sam," said Stone, in an off-handed, kindly way, "you're the boy for us. Now, where did you say you found that pin?"