“Why, do you steal?” Mrs. Platts asked, in her kindly way.
“Sometimes I do.”
“Why, that is dreadfully wicked; don’t you know it is?”
“No.”
“It is, though.”
“Well, I won’t steal from you if you will let me stay in your shed all night.”
“I don’t see how we can have you around if you steal,” said Mary.
“But I won’t steal if you will let me stay; sure I won’t.”
“Why, who have we here, I wonder?”
Zula looked up and saw a portly, good-natured gentleman standing in the doorway, that led to the dining-room. She thought she had never seen a look as pleasant as that which beamed from the blue eyes, under the gold-bowed spectacles.