"Boys can do everything better than girls."

The school-room ruler whizzed through the air, and, without touching
Ambrose, crashed through the window behind him.

"Girls can't even throw straight!" he exclaimed exultingly, jumping down
from the window-seat.

With a very sober face Nancy advanced to examine the mischief. The
ruler had broken one pane of glass, and cracked two others right across.

"There, you see!" said Ambrose tauntingly, "you've done it again.
You're always smashing things."

It was quite true. Nancy had a most unfortunate faculty for breaking
glass, china, and any other fragile thing she came near. She looked
sadly at the window.

"It'll be at least two weeks' pocket-money, Nancy," said Pennie, drawing
near.

"I don't so much mind about that," said poor Nancy dejectedly; "but I do
so hate telling mother I've broken something else. I did mean not to
break anything while she was away this time."

"Mother's never really angry when we tell her," said Pennie, trying to
give comfort.

"I wish someone else had broken something, or done something wrong,"
continued Nancy. "It's so horrid to be the only one."

Ambrose became suddenly grave. What was a broken window compared with
his and David's disobedience in the matter of Rumborough Common? Each
day the possession of that little crock with its gold pieces weighed
upon his mind more heavily. They had not even dared to place it openly
in the museum, but after hiding it for a while in the tool-house, had
agreed to bury it in the garden as the only secure place. It might just
as well, therefore, have remained in the Roman Camp; and with all his
heart Ambrose wished it could be transported there again, for he had not
known one happy minute since its discovery. It haunted him in lesson
and play-hours, and visited him in feverish dreams at night; but, most
of all, it spoilt his enjoyment of the garden. He got into a way of
hovering round the spot where it was buried, and keeping a watchful eye
on all Andrew's movements, for he felt that he might some day be seized
by a whim to dig just there, and bring the dreadful thing to light. The
only person he could talk to on the subject was David, but there was
little comfort in that, for the conversation was sure to end in a
quarrel. David had been excited and pleased at first; but now that the
treasure was buried away, quite out of his sight, his interest in it
became fainter and fainter.

"I don