"I left it there yesterday," said Jack. "I was up there yesterday, lying about, and it was so warm that I took off my jacket."
"And sat on it, I suppose, and wriggled around on it and ignited the matches, and burned down my stable. Couldn't you have set fire to the house, too, while you were about it, so as to have ruined me completely?"
Jack rightly considered this a very cruel speech, but he hung his head.
Among the many bystanders, attracted by a rarity such a fire generally is in a village, was the gunsmith, and as he gazed upon the many bits of portable property which had been thrown from the burning stable, his eye fell upon something familiar, and he picked up the saw which Jack had used on the court-house gas pipe; examining it hastily, he exclaimed:
"Why, here is my own saw, which I had such a long hunt for yesterday afternoon."
"I just borrowed it while you were out," explained Jack. "I was going to bring it back this morning and tell you about it."
"What did you want of such a tool?" demanded the doctor.
"I wanted to saw a piece of iron," said Jack, with downcast eyes.
"Who's been cutting the hose of my carriage sprinkler?" asked the doctor, suddenly espying the yard of rubber pipe, which Jack had fondly supposed would never be missed from the long coil from which he had cut it.
While Jack was casting about in his mind for some plausible excuse, he heard, to his unspeakable relief, his mother shouting from the back door: