Yes: it was the fresh paint that had poisoned Snowball. Dr. Gray had said that at once when Flaxie had led him out to the cage to show him the poor, stiff little body, and he saw the flakes of green soaked off from the sides of the drinking-pan and floating on the water.
So really Preston was the murderer. Poor Preston! Didn't he hang his head for shame? And, as for Bert, he hadn't been near Snowball for two whole days; he had been on the sofa all that time with earache and toothache.
"Does you feel orfly?" said little Flaxie. "You going to cry?"
"Yes, I feel orfly; but boys don't cry," replied Preston, trying to whistle.
He tried to whistle again, when Bert, of his own accord, brought back Brownie and said,—
"Come, Pres, let's go partner's again. Your cage is better than mine."
Preston choked up and could not speak; but, after this, he and Bert were closer friends than ever.