"Hello! Where have you been all this time?" said Phaeton.
"Can't you tell by the feathers?" said Ned.
"What feathers?"
"Jail-bird feathers. I've been locked up in jail all night."
Of course we asked him how that came about, and Ned told us the story of his captivity, which the reader already knows.
"But how did you get out?" said Phaeton.
"Why, when 'Squire Moore came to the office and opened the court, I was brought out the first one. And when I told him my story and whose boy I was, he said of course I was; he'd known Father too many years not to be able to tell one of his chickens as soon as it peeped. He advised me not to meddle any more with burglar things, and then told me to go home. 'Squire Moore's the 'squire for my money! But as for that stupid policeman, I'll sue him for false imprisonment, if Aunt Mercy will let me have the funds to pay a lawyer."
"Aunt Mercy's pretty liberal with you," said Phaeton, "but you may be sure she'll never give you any such amount as that."
When Ned heard of our adventures at the fire, he fairly groaned.
"It would be just like my luck," said he, "if there shouldn't be another good fire in this town for a year."