he felt then that
it was the right thing to do--

"Mrs Champernowne! Mrs Champernowne!"

"Yes, my dear," came from the foot of the stairs. "Oh, you have been
quick!"

"No, no, I haven't," cried Rodd pettishly. "Here, I say, have you taken
away my trousers?"

"Gracious me, no, my dear! What should I want with your trousers?"

"Take them down to brush perhaps," muttered the boy to himself, as he
ran back to the other side of the bed and raised the counterpane.
"Haven't slipped off and gone under," he muttered, and then as a fresh
thought struck him he clapped his hands to his forehead and stood
staring before him. "The thieves!" he exclaimed. "They haven't been in
here and taken all my clothes?"

He was silent for a few minutes, as he stared vacantly about the room.

"They have, though!" he cried. "Here, Mrs Champernowne!--Boots and
all. Oh, I can't tell her. Here, I must get my other suit out of the
portmanteau. I won't wake uncle, because it's so early. Why, it can be
only just sunrise; and he'd sit up and laugh at me. Oh, bother!"

Rodd ran round to the door again, opened it about an inch, and listened.

"She's in the kitchen," he muttered to himself, and slipping out on to
the little landing he raised the latch of his uncle's door, glided in,
and made for the big portmanteau that lay unstrapped beneath the window.

Raising the one half quickly, he twisted the whole round so that the two
halves might lie open upon the whitely-scrubbed boards as silently as he
could; but one corner caught against the leg of the dressing-table,
jarring it so violently that a hair-brush fell on to the floor with a
bang, and Uncle Paul sprang up in bed.

"Hullo, you sir! What are you doing there?" he cried.

"Getting out my other suit, uncle," said the boy quickly.

"What for? Don't do that! We are going over the moor again to-day."

"But I must, uncle," cried Rodd.

"Mush!"

"Yes. Oh, I shall be obliged to tell you. It was all your fault,
uncle; you didn't fasten the door as Mrs Champernowne told you, and
there have been thieves in the night."

"Been grandmothers in the night!" cried Uncle Paul contemptuously.

"It's true, uncle, and they came up into my room while I was asleep and
took away all my clothes--boots and all."

"You don't mean that, Pickle! Here, I say, where are mine?"

Rodd sprang to his feet from where he was kneeling by the portmanteau,
and ran round to the side of the bed, just