Hervey, eating his dessert, was all ears. “Ringing an alarm box isn’t—jiminies, a fellow that does that isn’t a criminal, is he?” he ventured.
“He is if he’s working with a burglar,” said Mr. Walton. “He’s an accessory. You know what that is, don’t you?”
“Like something you put on an automobile?” Hervey said.
Mr. and Mrs. Walton laughed heartily. “He’s a confederate,” said Mr. Walton.
“Well, I certainly hope they’re caught and sent to jail,” said Mrs. Walton, whose gentle voice and manner seemed to belie any unkind thought, even toward robbers. “To think the carnival was to raise money for the Children’s Home! It almost seems as if they had stolen the money from little waifs and crippled children. Why, there are two little blind tots in the Home.”
Hervey did not like the sound of that; it made him feel uncomfortable, contemptible.
“They might better have turned over the four hundred dollars to the Home,” said her practical husband.
“Oh, they didn’t know,” said Mrs. Walton. “But it’s unspeakable.”
“You never loiter around with any of that crowd down at Huyler’s or the lunch wagon, do you, Herve?” Mr. Walton asked suddenly.
“Such a question!” his wife exclaimed in surprised reproof.