tell me what to do? It makes me very sorrowful. For I
know that Alan Brandir lies below the sod in Doone-valley."

"And if you tell his father," I answered softly, but clearly, "in a few
weeks he will lie below the sod in London; at least if there is any."

"Perhaps you are right, John," she replied: "to lose hope must be a
dreadful thing, when one is turned of seventy. Therefore I will never
tell him."

The other way in which I managed to help the good Earl Brandir was of
less true moment to him; but as he could not know of the first, this was
the one which moved him. And it happened pretty much as follows--though
I hardly like to tell, because it advanced me to such a height as I
myself was giddy at; and which all my friends resented greatly (save
those of my own family), and even now are sometimes bitter, in spite of
all my humility. Now this is a matter of history, because the King was
concerned in it; and being so strongly misunderstood, (especially in
my own neighbourhood, I will overcome so far as I can) my diffidence in
telling it.

The good Earl Brandir was a man of the noblest charity. True charity
begins at home, and so did his; and was afraid of losing the way, if it
went abroad. So this good nobleman kept his money in a handsome
pewter box, with his coat of arms upon it, and a double lid and locks.
Moreover, there was a heavy chain, fixed to a staple in the wall, so
that none might carry off the pewter with the gold inside of it. Lorna
told me the box was full, for she had seen him go to it, and she often
thought that it would be nice for us to begin the world with. I told
her that she must not allow her mind to dwell upon things of this sort;
being wholly against the last commandment set up in our church at Oare.

Now one evening towards September, when the days were drawing in,
looking back at the house to see whether Lorna were looking after me,
I espied (by a little glimpse, as it were) a pair of villainous fellows
(about whom there could be no mistake) watching from the thicket-corner,
some hundred yards or so behind the good Earl's dwelling. "There is
mischief afoot," thought I to myself, being thoroughly conversant with
theft, from my knowledge of the Doones; "how will be the moon to-night,
and when may we expect the watch?"

I found that neither moon nor watch could be looked for until the
morning; the moon, of course, before the watch, and more likely to be
punctual. Therefore I resolved to w