"Or--or money?" and he pulled out his wallet hurriedly. "No, no, it isn't that." "What is it, then?" "I left that pitcher half full of milk when I went to bed last night. This morning there wasn't a drop in it, and the pantry door was open." "Cats are fond of milk," suggested Silas, with a glance at Tabby, who was lying near the fire-place. "It wasn't the cat. She couldn't get her head inside the pitcher. Besides, there are three slices of bread missing." "Won't cats eat bread?" "It was a two-legged cat!" replied Mrs. Wilson significantly. Bert reddened in spite of himself, and tried to look unconscious. He saw that Mrs. Wilson was on the point of making a discovery, and that suspicion was likely to fall upon him. This he could clear up, but it would be at the expense of the poor fellow who was asleep upstairs. "But how could anybody get into the house?" asked Silas. "The doors were locked, weren't they?" "Yes, Silas. In forty years I have never failed to lock the door before I went to bed." "Then I don't see----" "Nor I--yet!" said Mrs. Wilson significantly, and Bert thought--but he may have been mistaken--that her eyes turned for a moment in his direction. "At any rate it isn't much of a loss. Was there anything else in the closet?" "There were some doughnuts and beans." "Were any of them taken?" "No, not that I can see." "Cats don't care for them." "Don't be a fool, Silas! That poor cat had no more to do with the robbery than I have." "Mebbe you're right; but cats have been known to steal. I like dogs better myself." "I don't!" cried Mrs. Wilson with emphasis. "I'm not going to have any dog trapesing over my floors with his muddy feet." "Just as you like, Sophia. You'd better lock the pantry door in future." "I'm not sure that that will answer, unless I hide the key." "Do you seriously think a human being took the things?" "Yes, I do--in the middle of the night." "By gracious! that's serious, He might have come into our room and taken my wallet and watch." "And maybe murdered us in our beds!" added Mrs. Wilson grimly. "Did you hear anybody walking round the house last night, Bert?" asked the farmer, who was by this time worked up into a state of agitation. "No," answered Bert. "I am glad he did not ask me whether I _saw_ anybody," thought he. "I don't want to tell a lie." "I usually sleep pretty sound," he added, a little ashamed of his duplicity, yet not knowing how else to avert suspicions. "So we all do!" said the farmer's wife. "We might be all murdered in our beds without knowing anything about it." "I shouldn't want to know anything about it if that was going to happen," observed Silas, not without reason. "I don't think it could have been a very desperate ruffian, if he contented himself with taking bread and milk." "He may come again to-night," suggested Mrs. Wilson. "I hope not," said Silas fervently. "I--I couldn't sleep if I thought so."