, "that's the difficulty. I'm so
fond of 'im that I want to save him, but I don't know how."

Hereupon the poor woman explained her difficulties. She had heard her
husband murmuring in his sleep something about committing a burglary,
and the words Rosebud Cottage had more than once escaped his lips.

"Now, Tottie dear," said Mrs Bones firmly, "when I heard you tell all
about that Rosebud Cottage, an' the treasure Miss Stiffinthegills--"

"Stivergill, mother."

"Well, Stivergill. It ain't a pretty name, whichever way you put it.
When I heard of the treasure she's so foolish as to keep on her
sideboard, I felt sure that your father had made up his mind to rob Miss
Stivergill--with the help of that bad man Bill Stiggs--all the more w'en
I see how your father jumped w'en I mentioned Rosebud Cottage. Now,
Tottie, we _must_ save your father. If he had only got me to post his
letter, I could easily have damaged the address so as no one could read
it. As it is, I've writ it so bad that I don't believe there's a man in
the Post-Office could make it out. This is the first time, Tottie, that
your father has made up his mind to break into a 'ouse, but when he do
make up his mind to a thing he's sure to go through with it. He must be
stopped, Tottie, somehow--_must_ be stopped--but I don't see how."

Tottie, who was greatly impressed with the anxious determination of her
mother, and therefore with the heinous nature of her father's intended
sin, gave her entire mind to this subject, and, after talking it over,
and looking at it in all lights, came to the conclusion that she could
not see her way out of the difficulty at all.

While the two sat gazing on the ground with dejected countenances, a
gleam of light seemed to shoot from Tottie's eyes.

"Oh! I've got it!" she cried, looking brightly up. "Peter!"

"What! the boy you met at Rosebud Cottage?" asked Mrs Bones.

"Yes. He's _such_ a nice boy, and you've no idea, mother, what a
inventor he is. He could invent anythink, I do believe--if he tried,
and I'm sure he'll think of some way to help us."

Mrs Bones was not nearly so hopeful as her daughter in regard to Peter,
but as she could think of nothing herself, it was agreed that Tottie
should go at once to the Post-Office and inquire after Peter. She did
so, and returned crestfallen with the news that Peter was away on a
holiday until the following Monday.

"Why, that's the 15th," said Mrs Bones anxiously. "Y