fore him. Walky's face was as round
and red as an August full moon.

"How-do, Janice," he said. "What d'yeou think of them fule
committeemen startin' this yarn abeout Nelson Haley?"

"What do folks say about it, Walky?" cut in Mr. Day, to save his niece
the trouble of answering.

"Jest erbeout what you'd think they would," the philosophical
expressman said, shaking his head. "Them that's got venom under their
tongues, must spit it aout if they open their lips at all. Polktown's
jest erbeout divided--the gossips in one camp and the kindly talkin'
people in t'other. One crowd says Mr. Haley would steal candy from a
blind baby, an' t'other says his overcoat fits him so tight across't
the shoulders 'cause his wings is sproutin'. Haw! haw! haw!"

"And what d' ye say, Mr. Dexter?" asked Aunt 'Mira, bluntly.

The expressman puckered his lips into a curious expression. "I tell ye
what," he said. "Knowin' Mr. Haley as I do, I'm right sure he's
innercent as the babe unborn. But, jefers-pelters! who _could_ ha'
done it?"

"Why, Walky!" gasped Janice.

"I know. It sounds awful, don't it?" said the expressman. "I don't
whisper a word of this to other folks. But considerin' that the
schoolhouse doors was locked and Mr. Haley had the only other key
besides the janitor, who air Massey and them others goin' to blame for
the robbery?"

"They air detarmined to save their own hides if possible," Uncle Jason
grumbled.

"Natcherly--natcherly," returned Walky. "We know well enough none o'
them four men of the School Committee took the coins, nor Benny Thread,
neither. They kin all swear alibi for each other and sartain sure they
didn't all conspire ter steal the money and split it up 'twixt 'em.
Haw! haw! haw! 'Twouldn't hardly been wuth dividin' into five parts,"
he added, his red face all of a grin.

"That sounds horrid, Mr. Dexter," said Aunt 'Mira.

"Wal, it's practical sense," the expressman said, wagging his head.
"It's a problem for one o' them smart detecatifs ye read abeout in the
magazines--one o' them like they have in stories. I read abeout one of
'em in a story. Yeou leave him smell the puffumery on a gal's
handkerchief and he'll tell right away whether she was a blonde or a
brunette, an' what size glove she wore! Haw! haw! haw!

"This ain't no laughing matter, Walky," Mr. Day said, with a side
glance at Janice.

"Better laff than cry," declared Walky. "Howsomever, folks seed Mr.
Haley go into