“Oh! he’s all right,” said Libbie, “I saw him an hour ago, he came to the larder and helped himself to a meat pasty and a bun. He didn’t think that anyone saw him, but I let him go, for it was natural enough that he should feel shame-faced.”
“Beastly mean of him though, to steal from the larder,” said Phil.
“Poor beggar, I expect he was hungry,” said the more merciful Jack.
“I wonder if he’ll come to supper,” speculated Hubert.
“Here he comes,” said Phoena, as Andrew, emboldened by a call from Libbie, stole out from his hiding place, and came rather sheepishly to take his place at the supper-table.
“Where’s Gaston?” asked Faith, “where has he been all day, Libbie?”
“Why, surely,” answered Libbie, who was coming in with a dish, “he has been along with you all? He started with you.”
“Yes, but he very soon ran home again,” said Faith.
“He didn’t run back here,” said Libbie, “we’ve seen nothing of him all day.”
“But then where did he have his dinner and tea?” asked Phil, in consternation. “Mrs. Busson,” as the latter came into the room, “What has become of Gaston, no one has seen him since this morning?”