eried Mr. Day.

"They accuse him of stealin'! Hi tunket! ain't that the meanest thing
ye ever heard?" cried the boy. "Nelson Haley, stealin'. It gets _me_
for fair!"

"Why--why I can't believe it!" Aunt 'Mira gasped, and she sat down with
a thud on one of the kitchen chairs.

"I got it straight," Marty went on to say. "The School Committee's all
in a row over it. Ye see, they had the coins----"

"_Who_ had _what_ coins?" cried his mother.

"The School Committee. That collection of gold coins some rich feller
lent the State Board of Education for exhibition at the lecture next
Friday. They only come over from Middletown last night and Mr. Massey
locked them in his safe."

"Wal!" murmured Uncle Jason.

"Massey brought 'em to the school this morning where the committee held
a meeting. I hear the committee left the trays of coins in their room
while they went downstairs to see something the matter with the heater.
When they come up the trays had been skinned clean--'for a fac'!"
exclaimed the excited Marty.

"What's that got to do with Mr. Haley?" demanded Uncle Jason, grimly.

"Why--he'd been in the room. I believe he don't deny he was there.
Nobody else was in the buildin' 'cept the janitor, and he was with
Massey and the others in the basement.

"Then coins jest disappeared--took wings and flewed away," declared
Marty with much earnestness.

"What was they wuth?" asked his father, practically.

"Dunno. A lot of money. Some says two thousand and some says five
thousand. Whichever it is, they'll put him under big bail if they
arrest him."

"Why, they wouldn't dare!" gasped Mrs. Day.

"Say! Massey and them others has got to save their own hides, ain't
they?" demanded the suspicious Marty.

"Wal. 'Tain't common sense that any of the School Committee should
have stolen the coins," Uncle Jason said slowly. "Mr. Massey, and
Cross Moore, and Mr. Middler----"

"Mr. Middler warn't there," said Marty, quickly. "He'd gone to
Middletown."

"Joe Pellet and Crawford there?" asked Uncle Jason.

"All the committee but the parson," his son admitted.

"And all good men," Uncle Jason said reflectively. "Schoolhouse
locked?"

"So they say," Marty declared. "That's what set them on Nelson. Only
him and the janitor carry keys to the building."

"Who's the janitor?" asked Uncle Jason.

"Benny Thread. You know, the little crooked-backed feller--lives on
Paige Street. And, anyway, there wasn't a