gue,
I'll wollop you."

Pat became grave at once. "Well, d'ee know, Bob," he said, with an
earnest look, "I do b'lieve you are right. You've always seemed to me
as if you had a sort o' dissipated look, an' would go to the bad right
off if you gave way to drink. Yes, you're right, an' to prove my regard
for you I'll become a total abstainer too--but, nevertheless, I _can't_
leave off drinkin'."

"Can't leave off drinkin'!" echoed Bob.

Pat shook his head. "No--can't. 'Taint possible."

"Why, wot _do_ you mean?"

"Well, Bob, I mean that as I've never yet begun to drink, it ain't
possible for me to leave it off, d'ee see, though I was to try ever so
hard. Howsever, I'll become an abstainer all the same, just to keep
company along wi' you."

Bob Lumsden gave a short laugh, and then, resuming his earnest air,
said--

"Pat, I've found out that Dick Martin, the scoun'rel, has bin to Mrs
Mooney's hut again, an' now I'm sartin sure it was him as stole the
'ooman's money--not because I heerd him say so to Mr Binning, but
because Eve told me she saw him flattenin' his ugly nose against her
window-pane last night, an' recognised him at once for the thief.
Moreover, he opened the door an' looked into the room, but seein' that
he had given Eve a terrible fright, he drew back smartly an' went away."

"The willain!" exclaimed Pat Stiver, snapping his teeth as if he wanted
to bite, and doubling up his little fists. It was evident that Bob's
news had taken away all his tendency to jest.

"Now it's plain to me," continued Bob, "that the willain means more
mischief. P'r'aps he thinks the old 'ooman's got more blunt hid away in
her chest, or in the cupboard. Anyhow, he's likely to frighten poor Eve
out of her wits, so it's my business to stop his little game. The
question is, how is it to be done. D'ee think it would be of any use to
commoonicate wi' the police?"

The shaking of Pat Stiver's head was a most emphatic answer.

"No," said he, "wotiver you do, have nothin' to do wi' the p'leece.
They're a low-minded, pig-headed set, wi' their `move on's,' an' their
`now then, little un's;' an' their grabbin's of your collars, without no
regard to w'ether they're clean or not, an' their--"

"Let alone the police, Pat," interrupted his friend, "but let's have
your adwice about what should be done."

After a moment's consideration, the small boy advised that Mrs Mooney's
hut should be watched.

"In course," he said, "