"He drinks—depend upon it he drinks spirits, and that's what gives him that hang-dog look," said Archie.
"You've never seen him the worse for drink, have you?" asked Mr. Munster, not unwilling to have an excuse for getting rid of the ragged stranger.
"Well, I don't know," he answered. "He was leaning up against a wall the other day when I passed, and when he saw me coming he tried to stand upright, and he regularly staggered. I could see it was as much as ever he could do."
"H'm!" said Mr. Munster thoughtfully; "I shall watch him, then. If I catch him like that at his work, I shall soon send him packing."
"And there's another thing," Archie went on. "What does he do with the things he buys? What do you think I saw him getting last week?"
"Couldn't say, sir, I'm sure."
"Why, three boys' fur caps, and a lot of serge, and a girl's cloak, and four pairs of cheap stockings, and other things besides. I was in Dutton's shop when he came in. He didn't see me because of a pile of blankets, and I heard him buy all those things, and carry them off. He paid for half, and the rest he said he'd pay for this week. He must have bought things there before, or they wouldn't have trusted him. But, you know, they'd come to very nearly as much as his wages."
"Yes; I don't understand it," said Mr. Munster. "But, after all, it isn't our business if he does his duty at the mill."
"No, I know," said Archie; "but I believe there's something wrong about him, and I should like to know what it is."
"Well, 'give him enough rope and he'll hang himself,' as they say," rejoined Mr. Munster—"that is, if your ideas about him are true."