lly. Mr. Fenelby did not wait
to see if they also ran. He ran all the way home, and hurried into
the house, and up the stairs to the attic. He felt better about the
set of Field now. He had always wanted it, and he deserved it, for
he had waited for it long. He could hide it in the attic and bring
it into the realm of the tariff duty one volume at a time. He felt
his way into the fartherest corner and pushed the box under the
rafters. It would not quite go back where he wanted it to go, for
something was in the way of it. He pulled the other thing out. It
was also a box. It was another box of Eugene Field in twelve
volumes, three-quarter levant, and it was addressed to "Mrs. Thomas
Fenelby." There had never been any duty paid on books since the
Commonwealth of Bobberts had been established. For a moment Mr.
Fenelby frowned angrily; then he smiled. He hid his set of Field in
the other corner of the attic, and hurried down stairs.

He expected to find Billy there, for he had seen him start to run
when he left the drug-store, but there was no Billy in sight, and
Mr. Fenelby seated himself in the hammock and waited. He was ready
to receive his returning family with an easy conscience. His box was
well hidden. When they appeared in the distance he saw that they
were all together, Billy and the two girls and Bobberts, and Mr.
Fenelby arose and waved his hand to them. He was ready to be merry
and jovial, and to tease them cheerfully because they had not seen
him when he got off the train. But Mrs. Fenelby climbed the porch
steps with an air of anger.

"Good evening," she said, coldly. "I see you are home."

She laid Bobberts in the chair and faced Mr. Fenelby.

"Now, I want to know what all this means!" she declared. "I think
there is something peculiar going on in this family. Why did Billy
run all the way down to the next station so that he could be the
first to meet you as you came home this evening? Why did you avoid
us at the station and hurry home this way? You may think I am
simple, Thomas Fenelby, but I believe somebody is smuggling things
into the house without paying the tariff duty on them! I believe you
and Billy are conspiring to rob poor, dear little Bobberts, and I
want to know the truth about it! I believe Kitty is in it too!"

"Laura!" exclaimed Kitty, with horror, recoiling from her, while the
two men stood sheepishly. "Why, Laura Fenelby! If you say such a
thing I shall go right up and pack my clothes