other
keeps things."

"I will try," said Bert; and he slipped on his pantaloons, and went
softly downstairs.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE MIDNIGHT VISIT TO THE PANTRY.

"Suppose Mrs. Wilson sees me?" thought Bert uncomfortably. "She will
take me for a thief."

He was actuated by the kindest motives, but he heartily wished his
errand were done. As he stepped into the kitchen he heard the deep
breathing of Mrs. Wilson and the noisy snore of her husband, and rightly
judged that it would not be easy to rouse either of them. He opened the
pantry door, and by the light of the moon was able to inspect the
shelves. There was a half loaf of bread on one shelf, half a dozen
doughnuts on a plate on the shelf below, and a few cold beans close
beside them. Then there was a small pitcher half-full of milk.

"I don't think the beans or doughnuts will set well on an empty
stomach," Bert reflected. "I'd better take the milk and two or three
slices of bread."

Here the cat, who had been asleep on the hearth, roused herself, perhaps
at the sight of the milk pitcher, and, mewing loudly, rubbed herself
against Bert's legs.

"Scat!" cried Bert, in a low voice, anxiously looking toward the door of
the bed chamber in which the farmer and his wife lay asleep.

The cat got between his legs and nearly tripped him up, but he managed
to get out of the room and upstairs. Phineas looked at him eagerly.

"I have some bread and milk here," said Bert. "I couldn't find any
butter. There were some cold beans and doughnuts, but--"

"The bread and milk are better. Give them to me. I am almost famished."

The bread was dry and stale, but Phineas was not in the mood to be
particular. He ate like one famished, and drained the pitcher to the
last drop.

"I feel better," he said then, with a sigh of relief.

"I suppose I had better take the pitcher back to the kitchen. It will be
missed," reflected Bert, and he started downstairs again in his bare
feet. He paused at the kitchen door, and heard the farmer talking in
his sleep. This alarmed him. He decided that it would not do to replace
the pitcher in the pantry, as he would be likely to be heard. He waited
where he was for five minutes, and then ventured into the kitchen. This
time he was successful, and with mind relieved returned to his chamber.

Phineas was dozing in his chair.

"You had better get into the bed, Mr. Wilson," said Bert, filled with
compassion for the weary wayfarer. "I'll li