ouse, scanning the windows. Not a crack in a window pane could
he discern, which was not remarkable, in view of the fact that
no panes of glass had been broken.

"I need a lantern," Mr. Finbrink said to himself, and went inside
the house. Soon afterwards he came out with a lighted lantern,
and began his inspection. Three windows showed no sign of damage.
Nor did the fourth. Then Mr. Finbrink chanced to glance down
at the ground. There rested the brick, the fragments of the broken
bottle lying around it.

"Say, what's that? What's that?" ejaculated Mr. Finbrink, much
puzzled. Soon, however, he began to see light on the riddle.
His lips parted in a grin; the grin became a chuckle.

"Humph! That goes ahead of anything I ever had the brains to
think up when I was a boy," laughed the man. "That's a good one!
It sounded for all the world as though someone had smashed one
of my windows with a brick-bat. Ha, ha, ha! That's an all right
one! I'd be willing to shake hands with the boy who put up that
joke on me. How about my own Timmy, I wonder? No; Timmy wouldn't
be smart enough for this one---but he may have smart friends.
I'll look up that young hopeful of mine!"

With that purpose in view, the lantern still in his hand, Mr.
Finbrink passed into the house and then up the back stairs. On
the next floor he pushed open the door of a room, holding the
lantern high as he scanned the bed.

There lay Master Timmy, covered only with a sheet, his head sunk
in the depths of a pillow, eyes tightly closed, and breathing
with almost mechanical rhythm.

"Oh, you're asleep, aren't you?" demanded his father, in a low,
ironical voice. "How long have you been asleep, Tim?"

But Timmy's only answer was the beginning of a snore.

"Are you very tired, Timmy?" continued his father craftily.

Still no answer.

Mr. Finbrink held the lantern so that the rays shone fully against
the boy's closed eyelids. Any youngster genuinely asleep would
have opened his eyes instantly, and Mr. Finbrink knew it. But
Timmy began to snore in earnest.

"I'm glad you sleep so soundly," went on Mr. Finbrink. "It shows,
boy, what a clear conscience you have! No guile in your heart!
But I wish you'd wake up and tell me who broke the bottle against
the brick and made me sprint down the street."

Still young Master Timmy snored.

"In your sleeve you're laughing, to think how you fooled your
father, aren't you?" murmured Mr. Finbrink. "W