Tom, "I like stale cakes best," he added, determined to
show his aunt that he was ready to be pleased with everything. He was a
very knowing boy, and spoke up so well, and was so evidently sorry
himself, and so positive that as soon as ever the police were told they
would simply lay their hands on the thief and the thief would disgorge
his spoils, that Aunt Church was fain to believe him.

In the end she and he made a compact.

"I tell you what it is," he said. "You haven't been to see mother for a
long time, and if you ain't got any money to buy a dinner for yourself,
it is but fair you should have a slice off our Sunday joint."

"Sunday joint, indeed!" snapped Mrs. Church.

"You couldn't expect us not to have a bit of meat on Sunday," said Tom.
"Why, we'd get so weak that mother couldn't earn the money she sends you
every month."

"And you couldn't do your lessons and be the fine big boy that I am
proud of," said Mrs. Church. "Now, to tell the truth, I can't bear that
sister of yours--Susy, you call her--but I have a liking for you, Tom
Hopkins. What is it you want me to do?"

"If you will let me come here to-morrow, I'll push you all the way to
Merrifield in time for our dinner. Wouldn't you like that? And I'd bring
you back again in the evening. There's your own old bath-chair that
Uncle Church used to be moved about in before he died."

"To be sure, there is," said Mrs. Church, her eyes brightening. "But the
lining has got moth-eaten."

"Who minds that?" said Tom. "I'll go and clean it after you have given
me that bit of cake you promised me."

Everything ended quite satisfactorily as far as Tom was concerned, for
Mrs. Church forgot her anger in the interest that the boy's visit gave
her. She consulted him about her fowls, and gave him a new-laid egg to
slip into his pocket for his own supper. Later on she allowed him to
munch some very poor and very stale plumcake. Finally she gave him his
heart's delight, for he was allowed to peer into the old microscope and
revel in the sight of the beetle's wings with thin, sweeping plumes, as
he afterwards described them.

It was rather late when Tom returned home. He burst into the parlor
where his mother and Susy were sitting.

"Mother," he said, "I have done everything splendidly; and she's coming
to dine with us to-morrow."

"She's what?" said Mrs. Hopkins.

"Aunt Church is coming to dine with us. She was mad about the money, and
nobody could have been nas