"You're sure it was Sparks, are you?" inquired Bob. "Quite sure. It is true I only saw his confederate, but one of the men who had often seen Sparks in company with Crashington, his brother-in-law, knew him at once and saw him run off, with the boys after him. He's a bad lot, but I hope he'll escape for poor Mrs Crashington's sake." "And _I_ hope he won't escape, for poor Martha Reading's sake!" said Mary with much decision of tone. "That's his sweet-'eart--a friend of Molly's!" said Joe to Bob in explanation. At this point in the conversation, Master Fred Crashington, in his frantic efforts to reach an elevated part of the cupboard, fell backwards, drawing a shelf and all its contents on the top of himself and May. Neither of them was hurt, though both were much frightened. "I think _that_ must have put the fire out at last," said Joe, with a laugh, as he took the panting rosebud on his knee and smoothed her soft little head. "We'll sit quiet now and have a chat." A knock at the outer door here called Mrs Dashwood from the room. "Fire!" exclaimed May, holding up her finger and listening with eager expectation. "No, little woman," said Joe, "they would ring loud if it was fire." Meanwhile Mrs Dashwood opened the door and found herself confronted by a boy, with his hands in his pockets and his cap thrown in a reckless way half on the side and half on the back of his head. "Oh, I suppose you are the boy Herring, sent here by Miss Reading," said Mrs Dashwood. "Well, as to that, ma'am, you must be guided by taste. I've 'eard of men of my years an' standin' bein' styled 'obble-de-'oys. My name, likewise, is open to question. Some of my friends calls me 'Erring-- others of 'em, Raw 'Erring--others, again, the Bloater. But I'm in no wise partikler, I _did_ come from Miss Reading to 'ave an interview with Mrs Dashwood--whom--I presoom--" Here the Bloater laid his hand on his heart and made a courtly bow. Mrs Dashwood laughed, and said, "come in, boy." "I have a pal, ma'am--a chum--a--in fact a _friend_--may I--" Without finishing his sentence or waiting for a reply, the Bloater gave a sharp whistle, and Little Jim stood by his side as if by magical influence, looking the embodiment of united innocence and impudence. "Come in, both of you, and make haste," said Mary, ushering them into a small empty room. "Now, boy--" "Bloater, ma'am, if you 'ave no objection." "Well, Bloater, our communication with each other must be brief and to the point, because--" "Yes, ma'am--sharp and short," interrupted the Bloater--"reasons not required." Smiling in spite of herself, Mrs Dashwood said-- "You know Mr Sparks, and can--can--in short, give him into the hands of justice."