y what
holped to rob Blenkins's store by gittin' through a winder-pane an'
handin' out the stole truck ter the t'other burglars. Ye hev holped
about that thar plunder somehows,--else this hyar thing air a liar!" and
he shook the bit of cloth significantly.

"We'd better set out, Jim," said Stebbins, turning toward the wagon.
"We'll pass Blenkins's on the way, and we'll stop and see if this chap
can slip through the window-pane. If he can't, it's a point in his
favor, and if he can, it's a point against him. As we go, we can try to
get him to tell who the other burglars are."

"Kem on, bubby; we can't stand hyar no longer, a-wastin' the time an'
a-burnin' of daylight," said the constable.

Barney seemed to have lost control of his rigid limbs, and he was
half-dragged, half-lifted into the wagon by the two officers. The crowd
began to fall back and disperse, and he could see the group of
"home-folks" at the door. But he gave only one glance at the little log
cabin, and then turned his head away. It was a poor home, but if it had
been a palace, the pang he felt as he was torn from it could not have
been sharper.

In that instant he saw granny as she stood in the doorway, her head
shaking nervously and her stick whirling in her uncertain grasp. He knew
that she was struggling to say something for his comfort, and he had a
terrible moment of fear lest the wagon should begin to move and her
feeble voice be lost in the clatter of the wheels. But presently her
shrill tones rang out, "No harm kin kem, sonny, ter them ez hev done no
harm. All that happens works tergether fur good, an' the will o' God."

Little breath as she had left, it had done good service to-day,--it had
brought a drop of balm to the poor boy's heart. He did not look at her
again, but he knew that she was still standing in the doorway among the
clustering red leaves, whirling her stick, and shaking with the palsy,
but determined to see the last of him.

And now the wagon was rolling off, and a piteous wail went up from the
children, who understood nothing except that Barney was being carried
away against his will. Little four-year-old Melissa--she always seemed a
beauty to Barney, with her yellow hair, and her blue-checked cotton
dress, and her dimpled white bare feet--ran after the wagon until the
tears blinded her, and she fell in the road, and lay there in the dust,
sobbing.

Then Barney found his voice. His father and mother would not return
until