e were to go,
in order to see that everything was ready for us.

"The only thing that is wrong is the kitchen chimney, and that smokes,
sir," said Mrs. Putchy, in answer to my inquiry on the night of our
arrival. "I think that we had better have the sweep in the morning,
sir."

"Very well, Mrs. Putchy, I'm sure you know best," I replied, and
thought no more of the matter.

Early in the morning, however, I was awakened by screams and cries
proceeding from the lower part of the house.

"Help! help! Burglars! Fire and police! Thieves!" screamed a voice,
and hastily dressing myself, I rushed out into the passage, and was
confronted by the Rhymester, who had evidently just jumped out of bed,
and who, though it was broad daylight, bore a lighted candle in one
hand, and a pair of fire tongs in the other.

His teeth were chattering with fright, and his knees were knocking
together from the same cause.

"What's the matter," I asked in alarm.

"Oh! oh! there are burglars in the house," he cried excitedly, "and
the others have gone down to them; I'm sure they'll be killed--I told
them not to go, but they would. Let's go and hide under a bed
somewhere. Oh! oh, what will become of us?"

"Don't be such a coward," I cried, hurrying down stairs, while the
poor little Rhymester, afraid to be left alone upstairs, tremblingly
followed.

Sure enough there was a sound of struggling going on, and voices
raised in loud dispute.

"Oh, that story won't do for me," I heard the Doctor-in-Law exclaim.

"But I tell yez, sor," chimed in another strange voice, "I waz only
going to----"

"Never mind what you were going to do, give up the sack," said the
Doctor-in-Law.

Then there were sounds of struggling, and amidst the confusion a voice
saying:

"Hold him down! Sit on him! That's right! Now for the sack."

And, bursting the door open, a curious sight met my eyes. A poor sweep
lay flat upon the floor, with the Wallypug sitting upon him, and
One-and-Nine keeping guard; while the Doctor-in-Law and A. Fish, Esq.,
examined his bag of soot in the corner. The poor little Rhymester
summoned up sufficient courage to peep in at the doorway, and stood
there making a piteous picture, with his white face and trembling
limbs.

"Whatever is the matter," I inquired as soon as I entered.

"We've caught him!" exclaimed his Majesty, complacently wriggling his
toes about.

"But what's he been doing," I asked.

[Illustration: "WE'VE CAUGHT H