ck hastily recalled to them his adventures of the day before.

"And one parlor window is fastened," Dick went on. "The other has its
catch slipped. The fit-thrower must have climbed up in the night,
slipped the catch with a thin blade and prowled around in here just to
spoil our Christmas."

"It looks that way," nodded Mr. Prescott slowly, his usually calm eyes
filled with disappointment. Then he added, to his wife: "My dear, I'm
very glad, indeed, that I placed your chain on your bureau last night,
instead of leaving it here on the parlor table."

"And poor Dick doesn't get any present!" cried Mrs. Prescott, her eyes
filling a bit. "O Dick, this year we thought we'd please you more by
putting all the money we could spare into one present, so we got your
watch and chain that you've wanted for so long. It's--it's too, too
bad!"

Mrs. Prescott, though seldom given to tears, now sank to the sofa,
pulled out her handkerchief and gave brief vent to her own great
disappointment.

"Never mind, mother; it may turn up all right yet," urged Dick
soothingly, as he rested one arm around her waist. "But if Mr. Fits
really did break in here and take your present, then I feel as though
I'd enjoy trailing him to the end of the earth and seeing him shoved
away behind strong bars!"

"It seems almost fantastic," declared Mr. Prescott, "but I'm afraid,
Dick, that the scoundrel you've told us about really did break in here
on purpose to spoil your Christmas. If he didn't come in person he must
have sent someone."

"Oh, well, anyway," protested Dick, trying to stifle his disappointment,
both on his mother's account and his own, "probably we'll all live to
see more Christmases. But, mother, I'm awfully sorry about the loss of
your gift. Dad thought, too, that I had made a fine choice."

"Indeed you did, young man," remarked Mr. Prescott. "You know, my dear,
that the last time you went to the opera house it was a gala occasion,
and you regretted that you didn't have a really nice fan to carry? Dick
remembered that, and he got you a fan. It was a handsome one. I didn't
believe that a young boy could have as much taste as our son displayed
in choosing that fan. And now--it isn't here!"

Then each tried to cheer the other up, but despite their best efforts it
started in as a gloomy Christmas morning. The Prescotts, while not by
any means poverty stricken, were yet in very moderate circumstances.
Dick knew well enough that his parents w