With excitement and amusement struggling for the mastery on her features Ethel went up stairs and in a few moments the shrieks subsided. “What induced you to come to such a place as this, so far off the line of travel?” “Exactly that,” said the burglar, “because it was off the line of travel and because I have made some of my richest hauls in houses like this.” “Aren’t you ashamed to be a burglar?” said I, thinking that I might do some missionary work. “Now see here,” said he, rising from the chair in which he had seated himself after Ethel had gone up stairs, “I did not come here to be catechised or criticised. I came here to do business and I found it was impossible, so let us forget that I am a burglar and that you are a poor man and bend all our energies to retaining the services of your cook. As a fellow American I feel for you and I’d hate to see ‘the Madame’ forced to do her own cooking through any fault of mine. By the way, how’s the larder?” “The who?” “The larder. What have you to eat?” “Oh, I misunderstood you. I guess I can find something to eat. Are you fond of blueberries—not whortleberries, you understand, but blueberries.” “All the same, ain’t they?” “Not by a long shot. You’re evidently a city man. A blueberry is to a whortleberry what a wild cherry is to an oxheart. We have plenty of blueberries and some milk and I dare say Minerva can boil you some eggs if you care for them.” “No, I don’t want to bother you or her. Cooks object to getting extra meals.” I had not thought of that and I deemed it considerate in the burglar. I led the way to the pantry, where I found a pitcher of rich milk and a pan of berries and when Mrs. Vernon and Minerva came down stairs, the burglar and I sat at the dinner table, eating berries like the best of friends. “Frightened, Minerva?” asked I with a reassuring smile. “Yas’r,” was the monosyllabic and therefore reassuring reply. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you, Minerva,” said the burglar with an assumption of breeziness that sat very well on him. Minerva smiled foolishly. She was abashed. “I missed my way, Tom,” said he, turning to me, “and it’s a wonder I got here at all.” “Will you please explain why you call me Tom,” said I, giving him a cue, “when my name is Philip Vernon.” “Simply because I’ve been spending a week with Tom,” said he, “and he is very well indeed.” “Hasn’t he had any return of those spells?” asked I with mock concern.