kwards and forwards, and looking thoroughly ill at ease.

"Here's one on 'em, sir," said Andrew triumphantly introducing the small
trembling form of Frank, "an' t'other's not far off, I reckon."

The rector looked more than ever perturbed.

"Where was the boy, Andrew?" he asked. "Does he know anything of the
matter?"

"He was in the loft, and he's just the most owdacious young rascal; says
t'other one's gone on before. He'll know more about it, I fancy, after
a day or two in the lock-up."

Andrew administered a rousing shake to his captive as he spoke. He was
not ill-pleased that the rector should at last see the result of
encouraging tramps.

Hitherto Frank had been in a state of puzzled misery, and had scarcely
understood what was going on; but when Andrew mentioned the word
lock-up, the whole matter was clear to him. Barney had stolen
something; that was the meaning of his abrupt departure before daylight.

The rector looked at him pityingly.

"Where is your companion, my boy?" he said.

Frank did not answer; he stood perfectly passive in Andrew's hands, and
cast his eyes on the ground.

"Don't yer hear his reverence?" shouted the latter in the boy's ear.

"I dunno," said Frank faintly.

"You'd better let me run him over to Aylesford and have him locked up,
sir," said Andrew. "He'd find a tongue then."

Frank raised his frightened blue eyes entreatingly to the rector's face
without speaking; he saw something in the kind rugged features which
encouraged him, for with sudden energy he wriggled himself loose from
Andrew and threw himself on his knees.

"Don't let them lock me up, sir," he sobbed. "I've allers bin a honest
lad."

"Was it your companion who broke into this room this morning and stole
my inkstand?" pursued the rector.

"I dunno," repeated Frank. "I didn't see him steal nuthin', I was
asleep."

"Would he be likely to do it?"

"I dunno," said Frank under his breath, deeply conscious that he _did_
know very well.

"Is he your brother?"

"No," cried Frank with a sudden burst of eloquence, "he's no kin to me.
I'm Frank Darvell's lad, what lives at Green Highlands. And Parson
knows me--and Schoolmaster. And I've niver stolen nowt in my life.
Don't ye let 'em lock me up!"

"A likely story!" growled Andrew. "Honest lads don't go trampin' round
with thieves."

The rector, whose face had softened at the boy's appeal, seemed to pull
himself together sternly at this remark; he f