ked as fierce as a
sitting hen, and I didn't dare to stay; however, I know we are to have
hot rolls for breakfast; I saw them."

"The pocketbook kind, with the lovely brown crust all around? Good! I
certainly want a double appetite for those. Uncle Dick, you oughtn't
to tell other people's secrets, ought you?"

"No-o, not usually. Whose secret is burning in your breast?"

"Why--promise not to tell a soul."

"Is it a murder?"

"No, of course not."

"Is it grand larceny?"

"I don't know what that is."

"It is stealing something worth while, not like a loaf of bread nor a
pin, nor anything of that kind. You know the copy-book says: 'It is a
sin to steal a pin.'"

"Is it a sin to lose a pin?"

"Why, no, not unless it is a breastpin or a scarf-pin and you wilfully
throw it to the fishes."

Molly drew a sigh of relief. "Suppose you lose something that belongs
to some one else; is that a sin?"

"Why no, it is a misfortune, not a crime. You don't do it on purpose,
you see, and in fact I think the loser generally feels worse than the
one the thing belongs to. What have you lost? Not my favorite
scarf-pin, I hope. Have you been using it to pin rags around your
doll?"

"Oh, Uncle Dick, of course I haven't. I was only asking, just because
I wanted to know."

"As a seeker after ethical truths. It does you credit, Miss Shelton.
You will probably join a college settlement when you are older, or at
least write a paper on moral responsibilities."

"Oh, Uncle Dick, you do use such silly long words."

"I forget, when you tackle these abstruse subjects. I will come down
from my lofty perch, Molly. What more can your wise uncle tell you?"

"If a person loses something very costly, something that has been lent
to her, ought she to pay it back?"

"It is generally supposed to be the proper thing to replace it, but
half the world doesn't do it; sometimes because they can't and
sometimes because they don't want to. Then, sometimes the one to whom
the thing belonged, insists upon not having it replaced, and would feel
very uncomfortable if it were, though, from the standpoint of strict
honesty, one should always make good any borrowed article whether lost,
strayed or stolen."

"Would you insist upon its not being made good?"

"I shouldn't wonder if I were that kind of gander."

"Would Aunt Ada?"

"I think she's probably that kind of goose."

"Oh, I am so glad she is a goose."

"Glad who is a goose?