“Is it possible that we have a thief in the institute?” said Mrs. Smith, nervously. “Socrates, I shan’t sleep nights. Think of the spoons!”
“They’re only plated.”
“And my earrings.”
“You could live without earrings. Think, rather, of the wallet, with nearly fifty dollars in bills.”
“Who do you think took it, Socrates?”
“I have no idea; but I will find out. Yes, I will find out. Come downstairs, Mrs. Smith; we will institute inquiries.”
When Mr. Smith had descended to the lower floor, and was about entering the office, it chanced that his nephew was just entering the house.
“What’s the matter, Uncle Socrates?” he asked; “you look troubled.”
“And a good reason why, James; I have met with a loss.”
“You don’t say so!” exclaimed Jim, in innocent wonder; “what is it?”