had placed the old man, who, in his opinion, had
not treated him as well as usual.

"Why didn't you own it before?" said Mr. Grant, "and not allow an
innocent person to be suspected."

"I didn't like to," answered the culprit, with a smile, as though he was
entirely satisfied with his own position.

"You must be taken care of."

"I am going to take care of myself, sir," said Noddy, with easy
indifference.

This remark was capable of so many interpretations that no one knew what
it meant--whether Noddy intended to run away, or reform his vicious
habits. Bertha had never seen him look so self-possessed and impudent
when he had done wrong, and she feared that all her labors for his moral
improvement had been wasted.

Some further explanations followed, and Noddy was questioned till a
satisfactory theory in regard to the fire was agreed upon. The boy
declared that he had visited the boat-house after Fanny left it, and
that she was walking towards the Glen when he kindled the fire. He made
out a consistent story, and completely upset Ben's conclusions, and left
the veteran in a very confused and uncomfortable state of mind.

Mr. Grant declared that something must be done with the boy at once;
that if he was permitted to continue on the place, he might take a
notion to burn the house down. Poor Bertha could not gainsay her
father's conclusion, and, sad as it was, she was compelled to leave the
culprit to whatever decision Mr. Grant might reach. For the present he
was ordered to his room, to which he submissively went, attended by
Bertha, though he was fully resolved not to be "taken care of;" for he
understood this to mean a place in the workhouse or the penitentiary.

CHAPTER V.

SQUIRE WRIGGS AT WOODVILLE.

Bertha was deeply pained at the reckless wrong which her _protege_ had
done, and more deeply by the cool indifference with which he carried
himself after his voluntary confession. There was little to hope for
while he manifested not a single sign of contrition for the crime
committed. He was truly sorry for the grief he had caused her; but for
his own sin he did not speak a word of regret.

"I suppose I am to be a tinker now," said Noddy to her, with a smile,
which looked absolutely awful to Bertha, for it was a token of depravity
she could not bear to look upon.

"I must leave you now, Noddy, for you are not good," replied Bertha,
sadly.

"I am sorry you feel so bad about me, Miss Bertha," adde