'You married our burglar
for us--don't you remember?'
'I KNEW it was a gang,' said Amelia. 'Septimus, these abandoned
children are members of a desperate burgling gang who are robbing
the house. They have already forced the missionary-box and
purloined its contents.'
The Reverend Septimus passed his hand wearily over his brow.
'I feel a little faint,' he said, 'running upstairs so quickly.'
'We never touched the beastly box,' said Robert.
'Then your confederates did,' said Miss Selina.
'No, no,' said the curate, hastily. '_I_ opened the box myself.
This morning I found I had not enough small change for the Mothers'
Independent Unity Measles and Croup Insurance payments. I suppose
this is NOT a dream, is it?'
'Dream? No, indeed. Search the house. I insist upon it.'
The curate, still pale and trembling, searched the house, which, of
course, was blamelessly free of burglars.
When he came back he sank wearily into his chair.
'Aren't you going to let us go?' asked Robert, with furious
indignation, for there is something in being held by a strong lady
that sets the blood of a boy boiling in his veins with anger and
despair. 'We've never done anything to you. It's all the carpet.
It dropped us on the leads. WE couldn't help it.
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