Iris went into the house, but Stone went down to the cellar to see what Fibsy was doing. He found the boy diligently shoveling coal from one large coal bin to another. Nearby was Sam, quite as black as Fibsy, and the two were a comical sight.
Sam was seated on a box, rocking back and forth in an ecstasy of glee, and crooning, "Colole, colole, pinny-pin in colole!"
"That's what he says, Mr. Stone," Fibsy defended himself, "so if pinny-pin is in the coal-hole, I'm going to get her out! And if not, then Sam's fooled me again, that's all!"
"Terence Maguire! Do you mean to say you're going to hunt for a needle in a haystack—I mean a pin in a coal-hole?"
"Just that, sir. I'm onto friend Boobikins' curves, now, and I fully believe that his present dope is the answer! Anyway, I'm taking no chances."
"But, Fibs, it's impossible——"
"Sure it is, that's why I'm doing it. You run away and play, Mr. Stone, and let me work out this end. Didn't you tell me to find the pin? Well, I'm obeyin' orders."
Fibsy turned to his task again, and Stone watched him for a few minutes. The boy laboriously took up the coal in a small shovel, looked it over with sharpest scrutiny and then dumped it into the other bin.
By good luck the bins adjoined and the task was one of patience and perseverance rather than of difficulty.
Stepping toward his faithful assistant, Fleming Stone held out his hand, and said, quietly, "Put it there, Terence!"