ut you are not a boy accustomed to taking what does not belong to
you."

The culprit shot a glance of gratitude toward the speaker but made no
reply.

"How did you happen to do it this time?" persisted Mr. Ackerman kindly.
"Come, tell me all about it."

Perhaps it was the ring of sympathy in the elder man's voice that won
the boy's heart. Whatever the charm, it conquered; and he met the eyes
that scanned his countenance with a timid smile.

"I wanted to see what was in the pocketbook," said he with naive
honesty, "and so I took the things out to look at them. I wasn't goin'
to keep 'em. I dodged into one of the little alcoves in the hall and had
just pulled the papers out when I heard somebody comin'. So I crammed
the whole wad of stuff into my pocket, waiting for a time when I could
look it over and put it back. But I got held up just like Mrs. Nolan
did," he pointed toward the woman in the chair. "Some man was sick and
the clerk sent me to get a bottle of medicine the minute I got
downstairs, and all I had the chance to do was to stick the empty wallet
in 47's pocket and beat it for the drug store. I thought there would be
letters or something among the papers that would give the name of the
man they belonged to, and I'd take 'em to the clerk at the desk an' say
I found 'em. But no sooner had I got the medicine up to room Number 792
than the policeman nabbed me with the papers an' things on me. That's
all there is to it, sir."

"Have you the things now?" the officer put in quickly.

"Sure! Didn't I just tell you I hadn't had the chance to hand 'em over
to the clerk," the boy reiterated, pulling a wad of crumpled Liberty
Bonds and documents out of his pocket, and tumbling them upon the table.

There was no doubting the lad's story. Truth spoke in every line of his
face and in the frankness with which he met the scrutiny of those who
listened to him. If one had questioned his uprightness the facts bore
out his statements, for once out of the hotel on an errand he might
easily have taken to his heels and never returned; or he might have
disposed of his booty during his absence. But he had done neither. He
had gone to the drug store and come back with every intention of making
restitution for the result of his curiosity. That was perfectly evident.

"I'm sorry, sir," he declared, when no one spoke. "I know I shouldn't
have looked in the pocketbook or touched the papers; but I meant no
harm--honest I didn't."

"