"Prove what you say, and don't call me a thief till you have proved me one."
"Well, it's my duty—my painful duty," said Mr. Skinner, "to lock you up till I have fetched a policeman, and communicated with your mother."
"You needn't lock me up," said Jack proudly. "If I say I'll stay here, I'll stay. Indeed, I will stay till you have made it all clear. Your little cash-box! Aunt Pinckney——"
"No, no, not Aunt Pinckney; I am Mrs. Skinner now."
The tone was so sad that Jack's boyish heart was touched.
"Do you think I could steal a penny of yours, aunt, when you had kept me and mother all those years? Will you send for her? and I will stay till she comes."
But Mr. Skinner pushed Jack into the kitchen behind the parlour.
He had just turned the key in the lock, when a voice was heard in the shop—Bet's voice.
"I have brought you some fresh eggs, and half a pound of butter, Aunt Skinner," she said. "Aunt Maggie sent them with her love. What is amiss, Aunt?"
"Child," Mrs. Skinner said, "Jack is come home. Your uncle has locked him up in the kitchen. Hush! here he is."