"Cigarette!" exclaimed Uncle Daniel. "What!—you boys smoking!"
Both Bert and Harry started to cry. They were not used to being spoken to like that, and of course they realized how much it cost to put that nasty old cigarette in their mouths. Besides there might have been a great deal more damage if it hadn't been for the rain.
"Come with me!" Uncle Daniel said; "we must find out how all this happened," and he led the unhappy boys into the coach house, where they all sat down on a bench.
"Now, Harry, stop your crying, and tell me about it," the father commanded.
Harry tried to obey, but his tears choked him. Bert was the first able to speak.
"Oh, Uncle Daniel," he cried, "we really didn't mean to smoke. We only rolled up some corn silk in a piece of paper and—"
His tears choked back his words now, and Harry said:
"It was I who rolled the cigarette, father, and it was awful, it almost made us sick. Then when Bert put it in his mouth—"
"I threw it away and it must have fallen in the hay!" said Bert.
"Why didn't you come and tell me?" questioned Uncle Daniel severely. "It was bad enough to do all that, but worse to take the risk of fire!"