“Yes, I suppose so. Well, your mother is getting up out of bed to come down and get you some supper; of course, we can’t expect Myra to stay up till midnight. So you see your mother has to get up. What do you think about that, Herve?”
“I bet you Myra would do it. Didn’t I climb down the old well-hole looking for her wrist-watch?”
“Didn’t you promise me you wouldn’t cause your mother any worries? Didn’t you promise me you’d be thoughtful and obedient just as you would with your own mother? Didn’t you?”
Hervey was sober for a moment. And in the pause Mrs. Walton could be heard descending the stairs. She entered with a shawl about her and embraced the boy and brushed his hair back affectionately and said, “Never mind about anything now till you’ve had a nice warm supper.” Then she went out into the kitchen.
“Well, Hervey,” said Mr. Walton, “while you were getting a hitch to any one of the points of the compass, a couple of boy scouts found out who sent in that false fire-alarm the other night.”
“What?” gasped Hervey. “They found—did they get the robber too? What fellers?”
He seemed so excited that Mr. Walton looked at him rather curiously, for he knew Hervey’s propensity for losing interest in every matter which had become a day old.
“Why, let’s see; Hobson—isn’t there a Hobson boy?”
“Sure, Craig Hobson.”
“Well, he and another boy were sitting on a porch over there on New Street the other night not far from the fire-box. Let’s see, I think the paper said—Lewis?”