oung fellow, but his face was now
disfigured by the fall and contracted with pain; and Mr Inglis could
not but feel sad to look upon so pitiable a sight--a fine, hearty young
man stricken with death through the act of petty theft of which he had
been guilty.

At length the doctor arrived--the same gentleman who had attended poor
Fred in his narrow escape from drowning. He made his examination, and
found that one arm was broken, and the neck so injured that he shook his
head, and whispered to Mr Inglis that the bones were dislocated; and in
reply to the inquiry whether there was any hope, he shook his head
again. He then did all that was possible in such an extreme case, and
sat down in company with Mr Inglis to see if the poor fellow would
revive; but they waited in vain, for after about an hour had passed,
during which the doctor had watched every change, he suddenly rose up
from leaning over the injured man, laid his hand upon Mr Inglis's
shoulder, and walked out of the room with him, whispering some words
that caused Mr Inglis to sigh, and then to slip a sovereign into the
hands of the poor old woman, the mother, who was sobbing upon the settle
in the common room of the inn.

The death caused a great stir in the village, and many people said that
it was a judgment upon the man for his sin; but Mr Inglis was deeply
grieved, and said that he would rather that all the fruit in the garden
had been stolen than such an awful punishment should have befallen the
man.

And now to return to the beaten path: Sam persisted that it was our
young friends, so they went to look at the trampled place, and one and
all declared it was a shame.

All at once Harry made a proposition which caused old Sam's mouth to
expand into a grin, after which he gave a series of hearty chuckles, and
slapping the boy on the shoulder, exclaimed, "Well, it couldn't a been
you arter all, Master Harry--(chuckle, chuckle, chuckle)--we'll do it
this very night, we will."

What they did that very night will come out in due course.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

MR JONES'S MISHAP.

About eleven o'clock the next morning, Mr Inglis was sitting in his
study, writing; Mrs Inglis was working at the open window, and
occasionally watching the boys, who were amusing themselves upon the
lawn, when all at once a knock came at the study-door.

"Come in," said Mr Inglis, and in came Mary, trying to look very
serious, but evidently struggling with a laugh which would