"Did you hear anybody walking round the house last night, Bert?" asked the farmer, who was by this time worked up into a state of agitation.
"No," answered Bert.
"I am glad he did not ask me whether I saw anybody," thought he. "I don't want to tell a lie."
"I usually sleep pretty sound," he added, a little ashamed of his duplicity, yet not knowing how else to avert suspicions.
"So we all do!" said the farmer's wife. "We might be all murdered in our beds without knowing anything about it."
"I shouldn't want to know anything about it if that was going to happen," observed Silas, not without reason. "I don't think it could have been a very desperate ruffian, if he contented himself with taking bread and milk."
"He may come again to-night," suggested Mrs. Wilson.
"I hope not," said Silas fervently. "I—I couldn't sleep if I thought so."
"We must get to the bottom of this," went on his wife resolutely. "I am not willing to have such goings on in my house."
"How are you going to do it, Sophia? Probably the thief's miles off by this time."