so interested in his
education, and so eager to help his fund, and here she has been
smuggling liquor into the house all the time."

She wiped her eyes and sighed.

"And liquor is a luxury, and pays thirty per cent.," she said sadly.
"I don't know who to trust when I can't trust a girl like Bridget.
She should have paid the duty the minute she brought the stuff into
the house. It just shows that you can't place any reliance on that
class."

Kitty nodded assent.

"You'll have to pay her," she said. "Shall I run up and get your
purse?"

She went, and as she reached the hall, Billy entered. He gazed at
Kitty's garments closely, making mental note of them for future
comparisons, and as he stood aside to let her pass he held one hand
carefully out of sight behind him. It held a package--an oblong
package, sharply rectangular in shape. A close observer would have
said it was a box such as contains fifty cigars when it is full, but
it was not full. Billy had taken one of the cigars out when he made
the purchase at the station cigar store.

VII

THE AMATEUR DETECTIVE

When Billy Fenelby had taken his box of cigars up to his room he
came down again, but he did not go anywhere near Bobberts' bank, as
he should have gone had he intended depositing in it the thirty per
cent. of the value of the cigars, which was the duty due on cigars
under the provisions of the Fenelby Domestic Tariff. He walked out
to the veranda and got into the hammock and began to read the
morning paper.

From time to time he let it hang down over the edge of the hammock,
as if it bored him, and he glanced at the door as if he hoped
someone would come out of the house. The paper was not very
interesting that morning, and Billy had other things to think of. He
had volunteered to keep an eye on Kitty, and to find out definitely,
if he could, whether she was smuggling shirt-waists and other
things--or had already smuggled them--into the house, contrary to
the provisions of the tariff. He felt that the more he saw of girls
the less he liked them, and that the more he saw of Kitty,
particularly, the less he fancied her, but if he was going to do
this amateur detective business he wanted to begin it as soon as
possible, and he watched the door closely. He wanted to see whether
Kitty would still wear the pink shirt-waist she had worn at
breakfast, or the white one she had worn the evening before, or
whether she would dare to wear another.

Th