"It's that miserable Tommy Cahoon!" interrupted she. "His mother left him an' Willie here with me a week ago when she went to Sawyer Falls shoppin'. I saw 'em playin' policeman out in the back yard, an' noticed one of 'em was wearin' a badge, but I thought nothin' of it, supposin' they'd brought it with 'em. The little monkeys must 'a' sneaked indoors when I wasn't lookin' an' took that an' the handcuffs. I'm dretful sorry. Still, boys will be boys, I reckon," concluded she with a deprecatory smile and a shrug of her angular shoulders.
"But—but—good Heavens—" sputtered Elisha.
"I'm sure we can find the missin' articles, unless the children took 'em home—which I doubt," went on the woman serenely. "Last I saw of the imps they was out yonder under the apple trees. S'pose we have a look there."
Almost beside himself with an indignation he dared not voice, Elisha followed May Ellen out of doors.
Yes, trampled into the sodden ground lay the badge—its gleaming metal surface defaced by mud, and its fastening broken. There, too, lay the handcuffs, tightly snapped together and without a trace of a key to unlock them.
Elisha, livid with rage, opened his lips prepared to consign to the lower regions not only Tommy and Willie Cahoon, but their mother and May Ellen as well.
Before he could get the words out of his mouth, however, the suave voice of his housekeeper fell gently on his ear.
"'Course you can't lay this mishap up against me, Elisha," she was saying. "I ain't no more responsible for the children's thievin' than you are for the crime of the criminal you're preparin' to arrest. The actions of others are beyond our control. All we can do is to live moral lives ourselves."
"But—but—"