ts had
ceased from mewing and were crowding round the cow, with expressions of
hope and anticipation on their whiskered faces.

'We can't get rid of any more cats,' said Cyril, as he and his sisters
piled a tray high with saucers and soup-plates and platters and
pie-dishes, 'the police nearly got us as it was. Not the same one--a
much stronger sort. He thought it really was a foundling orphan we'd
got. If it hadn't been for me throwing the two bags of cat slap in
his eye and hauling Robert over a railing, and lying like mice under
a laurel-bush--Well, it's jolly lucky I'm a good shot, that's all.
He pranced off when he'd got the cat-bags off his face--thought we'd
bolted. And here we are.'

The gentle samishness of the milk swishing into the hand-bowl seemed
to have soothed the burglar very much. He went on milking in a sort of
happy dream, while the children got a cap and ladled the warm milk out
into the pie-dishes and plates, and platters and saucers, and set them
down to the music of Persian purrs and lappings.

'It makes me think of old times,' said the burglar, smearing his ragged
coat-cuff across his eyes--'about the apples in the orchard at home,
and the rats at threshing time, and the rabbits and the ferrets, and how
pretty it was seeing the pigs killed.'

Finding him in this softened mood, Jane said--

'I wish you'd tell us how you came to choose our house for your
burglaring to-night. I am awfully glad you did. You have been so kind. I
don't know what we should have done without you,' she added hastily. 'We
all love you ever so. Do tell us.'

The others added their affectionate entreaties, and at last the burglar
said--

'Well, it's my first job, and I didn't expect to be made so welcome, and
that's the truth, young gents and ladies. And I don't know but what it
won't be my last. For this 'ere cow, she reminds me of my father, and I
know 'ow 'e'd 'ave 'ided me if I'd laid 'ands on a 'a'penny as wasn't my
own.'

'I'm sure he would,' Jane agreed kindly; 'but what made you come here?'

'Well, miss,' said the burglar, 'you know best 'ow you come by them
cats, and why you don't like the police, so I'll give myself away free,
and trust to your noble 'earts. (You'd best bale out a bit, the pan's
getting fullish.) I was a-selling oranges off of my barrow--for I ain't
a burglar by trade, though you 'ave used the name so free--an' there was
a lady bought three 'a'porth off me. An' while she was a-pickin' of