"So you're the one he sends in, are you?" said a deep voice, and Ned looked up into the face of a policeman. "I'd rather have caught the old one," he continued, "but you'll do. I've been watching this burglar arrangement for two hours. And by the way, I must have some of it for evidence; the old one may take it away while I'm disposing of you." And he turned and with his pocket-knife cut off about a yard of my ladder, taking which in one hand and Ned in the other, he hurried away to the police-station.
| "NED LOOKED UP INTO THE FACE OF A POLICEMAN." |
It was useless for Ned to protest that he was not a burglar, nor a burglar's partner, or to tell the true story of the ladder, or to ask to be taken to his father. The policeman considered himself too wise for any such delusive tricks.
"Mr. Rogers's boy, eh?" said he. "Why don't you call yourself George Washington's boy, while you're about it?"
"Washington never had any boys," said Ned.
"Didn't eh? Well, now, I congratulate George on that. A respectable man never knows what his sons may come to, in these times."
"Washington didn't live in these times," said Ned; "he died hundreds of years ago."
"Did, eh?" said the policeman. "I see that you're a great scholard; you can go above me in the history class, young man. I never was no scholard myself, but I know one when I see him; and I always feel bad to put a scholard in quod."
"If I had my printing-office and a gun here," said Ned, "I'd put plenty of quads into you."