ss gets back and I can catch him by telephone I'll find
out. Meanwhile I ain't worryin' and I don't know why you should.
The main thing is not to let anybody know anything's missin'. Once
let the news get out 'twill grow to a hundred thousand afore night.
There'll be a run on us if Gab Bearse or Melissa Busteed get goin'
with their throttles open. So don't you whisper a word to anybody,
Jed. We'll find it pretty soon."

And Jed did not whisper a word. But he anxiously watched the
inmates of the little house, watched Charles' face when he came
home after working hours, watched the face of his sister as she
went forth on a marketing expedition, even scrutinized Babbie's
laughing countenance as she came dancing into the shop, swinging
Petunia by one arm. And it was from Babbie he first learned that,
in spite of all Captain Hunniwell's precautions, some one had
dropped a hint. It may as well be recorded here that the identity
of that some one was never clearly established. There were
suspicions, centering about the bank messenger, but he stoutly
denied having told a living soul.

Barbara, who was on her way home from school, and had rescued the
long-suffering Petunia from the front fence where she had been left
suspended on a picket to await her parent's return, was bubbling
over with news and giggles.

"Oh, Uncle Jed," she demanded, jumping up to perch panting upon a
stack of the front elevations of birdhouses, "isn't Mr. Gabe Bearse
awfully funny?"

Jed sighed. "Yes," he said, "Gabe's as funny as a jumpin'
toothache."

The young lady regarded him doubtfully. "I see," she said, after a
moment, "you're joking again. I wish you'd tell me when you're
going to do it, so Petunia and I would know for sure."

"All right, I'll try not to forget to remember. But how did you
guess I was jokin' this time?"

"'Cause you just had to be. A jumping toothache isn't funny. I
had one once and it made me almost sick."

"Um-hm. W-e-e-ll, Gabe Bearse makes 'most everybody sick. What
set you thinkin' about him?"

"'Cause I just met him on the way home and he acted so funny.
First he gave me a stick of candy."

Mr. Winslow leaned back in his chair.

"What?" he cried. "He gave you a stick of candy? GAVE it to you?"

"Yes. He said: 'Here, little girl, don't you like candy?' And
when I said I did he gave me a stick, the striped peppermint kind
it was. I'd have saved a bite for you, Uncle Jed, only I and the
re