“Why, that’s where we put Pennington,” cried Austin and Phil Graham. Clara darted to the door and opened it wide.
“John!” she cried again. “Come out, come out.” And, in obedience to her call, John Pennington came out.
“Where’s that burglar?” he asked.
“There were three of them,” answered Mrs. Graham, promptly. “We have got them all.” Pennington looked around bewildered. He recognized Phil Graham, and then saw Mr. Graham sitting in the hall chair, the rug at his feet. His face fell.
“This was the burglar you captured,” said Mrs. Graham; and Mr. Graham nodded.
“Who hit me, then?” demanded Pennington, rubbing his head. Fred Austin seemed bashful about answering, and Phil spoke up:
“We took you for a burglar and captured you, just as you had captured father.”
“Then there were no burglars?” asked Pennington, doubtfully.
“No, there were no burglars,” answered Mrs. Graham.
“Well,” said Pennington, as he rubbed his head again, “I suppose it’s all right, but it’s rather hard on a well-meaning fellow—” And he smiled rather weakly.