ddenly vanished. He arose and took up his lantern.

"You must go home now," he said. "I have work to do."

He spoke in a voice that the child understood must be obeyed. Tim
arose and moved away, slowly and reluctantly.

"I'm comin' another night," he called back, in a voice half appealing,
half threatening. The man took no notice, and accepting this as
permission, the boy limped away, whistling gaily.

Meanwhile, at home, dire events were pending for the orphans. When the
minister arrived, and Jake and Hannah could produce only Joey as the
sole representative of their large family, they were covered with
humiliation. Never before, except in cases of severe illness, had it
been known throughout the whole Elmbrook congregation that the family
had failed to appear in full force at an official visit from the
minister. The visitor himself did not treat the matter lightly. He
hinted that Jake and Hannah had better keep a firm hand on their
children, if they intended to do their duty by them, and that obedience
must be exacted, at all costs. When he was gone the husband and wife
sat despondently in the empty parlor, while Joey ate the remains of the
gingerbread and drank all the raspberry vinegar, unnoticed. This was a
serious problem. The orphans had really disgraced themselves this
time, and something must be done.

"Let's go and ask Susan Winters; she'll know," suggested Hannah.
"Mebby hers might 'a' run away once when the minister called."

Jake shook his head mournfully. He was quite sure such a thing could
never have happened in the Winters' well-managed family. Nevertheless,
he shouldered Joey, and they went down the street to consult the
village oracle. The Duke of Wellington had dropped in for a chat, and
the two vigorously took up the case of the absconded orphans. Mrs.
Winters, backed up by the schoolmistress, declared that the family's
only salvation lay in a thorough, all-around thrashing; and after much
scolding, and dire prophecies of the gallows as the termini of the
orphans' careers, Jake and Hannah, like two frightened children, were
driven to make the desperate promise that as soon as the culprits
returned they would administer to each a severe castigation.

When the stern parents returned home, and sat on the front step to
consider what was before them, they were filled with dismay.

"If the little woodpecker'd been into it I wouldn't 'a' promised--no,
not even for Susan Winters," ann