Instead of doing so Tom gave Bob a violent push which made him stagger and upset some apples from his basket. In a minute several big boys, friends of Tom Smith's, who had been standing by, listening and watching, had pounced upon the apples and made off with them. Bob stood aghast with dismay, whilst Tom broke into a roar of laughter and quickly followed his friends.
"Whatever will Aunt Martha say?" thought poor Bob. "And they are eating apples, too, not cheap cooking ones!"
Unfortunately for Bob Mrs. Mead was not in a good humour when he returned home with the tale that some boys had stolen the apples from him, and she was too angry to listen when he attempted to explain all that had happened.
"You're not to be trusted!" she said severely. "Why, those apples were worth twopence each! Early apples are always dear, especially dessert ones. What's that you say, that a boy you'd been talking to was to blame and not you? What business had you dawdling away your time talking to any one, pray? Don't try to make any more excuses, and get out of my sight!"
Bob obeyed. He went upstairs, but found the attics empty. No doubt Mrs. Winter and Jackie and Stray had gone for a walk. He seated himself on the edge of his bed to wait for their return, his heart hot with indignation and the feeling that he had been unjustly treated. By-and-bye, being very tired, he took off his dusty boots, and lay down on the bed to rest. In a few minutes he was asleep.
Bob had been asleep for nearly an hour when he was awakened by voices in the other attic. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and called—
"Jackie! Jackie!"
"Oh, come here, Bobbie!" was the answer. "Stray's hurted!"
Bob bounded off the bed and rushed into Mrs. Winter's attic. Jackie was there, in tears, and Mrs. Winter, who was kneeling on the floor beside Stray. The dog was allowing his mistress to examine a nasty cut behind one of his ears.
"Oh, Bobbie," Jackie cried, "Stray's hurted drefful! A bad boy did it. He threw a stone and hit him."