gravely. "Is that the
presbytery, Tim?"

"What else?" asked Tim, scornfully.

"And to whom does it belong?"

"To the Father, to be sure."

"No, Tim; you are wrong."

Mrs. Gorman hailed the group from the kitchen door.

"Is Miss Molly there? Then send her to her dinner."

"I am busy, teaching logic. Sure the dinner can wait," replied Molly.
"Now, Tim, and whose is it?"

"Is it the bishop's, Miss?"

"Wrong again. It belongs to the Church, and to steal from the Church is
sacrilege. That's a big sin for a little boy to carry on his conscience,
Tim O'Neill."

"It was only for a lark I took them, miss. Joe Adams there dared me to
do it." And, his face brightening at the thought, "I have them in my
pocket."

"Have you tasted them, Tim?"

"They have been bitten--by someone, miss," replied Tim, feeling in his
pocket as if to assure himself of the fact.

"Let me see them," said the relentless Molly.

"There is not much left to see."

"Was it you that tasted them?"

"Me and Joe, miss. He was hungry."

"Then you and Joe will die, Tim," cried the tormentor in a melancholy
voice.

Tim's face became gloomy, while Joe Adams rubbed his eyes with his
knuckles.

"No, miss. Don't be saying that," sighed Tim, now thoroughly repentant.

"Yes, you will--and so will I--and the doctor, too."

"I really am ashamed of you, Molly. This is persecution of an innocent
boy."

The big, gaunt man, with deeply-lined face and iron grey moustache, who
had paused to smile at the conversation, feigned an expression of
disapproval as she looked up smilingly into his face.

"Persecution! For shame, Doctor Marsh, to be making such a suggestion.
It's logic I'm teaching Tim--the apples, Tim, the apples!"

"They're not apples, miss," replied Tim.

"What are they, then?"

"They're cores, miss."

This reply was greeted with a shout of laughter, often repeated as Tim
produced the remains of four apples, one by one.

"There you are, doctor. Now, what would you do to Tim," asked Molly.

"Tell him to take what he wants and change him from a criminal to a
law-abiding citizen."

"There you are, Tim. Do you see the doctor's watch--it's a fine gold
repeater. Take it, if you are wanting a watch!"

Tim riveted his eyes on the doctor's watch-chain, and the latter put
his fingers on it to assure himself of its safety.

"Run away, Tim, and don't be stealing again," he cried. "And you come
inside with me, Molly, and eat your dinner. I