Mrs. Brown gave a rather embarrassed laugh. She made no answer, but her face softened, and her eyes were a little dim as she returned the little boy's kiss.
"Now I know what to do," William Brown remarked, adding: "We shall all sleep the better for having decided this matter to-night."
[CHAPTER XII.]
CONCLUSION.
WILLIAM BROWN wrote to Captain Foster that same night, and the first thing after breakfast the following morning Billy hastened to the village and posted the letter. Then he went into the post office, where he found Mr. and Mrs. Dingle in earnest conversation, both looking unusually grave.
"Oh, Billy," the latter began, "poor Harold's in trouble. He went to look at his marrow before breakfast and found it gone."
"Do you mean it has been stolen?" gasped Billy, aghast.
"Yes," she assented, "stolen! Oh, it's really too bad! We've told the policeman what's happened, but it's most improbable he'll be able to find the thief. The marrow must have been taken during the night."
"Yes," agreed John Dingle, "for it was all right last evening—I saw it myself after dusk."
"Oh, poor Harold!" cried Billy. "Where is he?" he asked.