"The boy's speakin' to him!" said Silas, awe-struck. "I never see such a terrible time. I wish I'd told Bert to tell the burglar to go back the same way he came, and we wouldn't fire at him. I don't want to be too hard on the transgressor. Mebbe he's driven to his evil ways by destitution." Mrs. Wilson paid very little attention to what her husband was saying, being more intent on what was passing upstairs. After a short interval Bert came down. "Well?" said Silas eagerly. "Did you see the burglar?" "Yes." "Where is he?" "In my room." "What is he doin' there?" "He is lying on the bed." "Well, if I ever saw such impudence!" ejaculated Mrs. Wilson. "Has he got a gun with him? Did he offer to shoot you?" "No," answered Bert gravely. "The poor fellow is sick." "Poor fellow, indeed!" sniffed Mrs. Wilson. "What does he mean by getting into a respectable house through a window? He'll end up his days in jail." "Does--does he look desperate?" inquired Silas Wilson. "Would he be likely to hurt me or Mis' Wilson?" "No; he says he would like to have you come up." "Well, of all things!" ejaculated Sophia. "I've got something to tell you," went on Bert, turning from one to the other. "He wants me to tell you before you go up. It is some one whom you both know, though you haven't seen him for a good many years." Silas did not understand, but a mother's instincts were quicker. "Is it our son--Phineas?" she asked. "Yes," answered Bert; "it is your son." "Who stole fifty dollars from his father, and crept away like a thief in the night!" exclaimed the farmer indignantly. "He has suffered, and is very weak," rejoined Bert. "He hadn't had anything to eat for twenty-four hours, and I may as well tell you that it was I who came downstairs in the night and took up the bread and milk to him." "You did quite right," said Mrs. Wilson, who was half-way upstairs by this time. He was her own son in spite of all, and though she was not an emotional woman, she yearned to see the face of her only child, with a mother's feelings all aroused within her. "He took fifty dollars!" repeated Silas Wilson, still harping on a wrong which he had never forgotten nor forgiven. Bert was rather disgusted at the farmer's meanness, but he relieved his anxiety. "He's brought you back the money!" he said shortly. "He has!" exclaimed Silas in a tone of gladness. "Did he tell you so?" "Yes; it is all the money he had, and he went without food rather than spend any of it." "Come, that's encouragin'," said the farmer. "He's turnin' from his evil ways." When they reached Bert's chamber they saw Mrs. Wilson kneeling beside the bed, her harsh features softened by the light of an affection which had been absent from them for years. She looked contented and happy, now that her boy was restored to her. "Got back again, Phineas, hey?" said Silas Wilson. "You're lookin' kinder peaked." "Yes, father, I've been sick, but now----"