"Young gentlemen, it is clear beyond possibility of denial that some of you have been guilty of robbing Squire Ribston’s orchard. Now, I dare say, it will not be difficult to trace out the culprits, but I would much prefer that they should acknowledge their wrong-doing of their own accord. I therefore wait to give them the opportunity." There was but a moment’s pause, and then Charlie Draper, stepping forward, said in a steady voice, looking full at Professor Rodwell,— "It was I that took Squire Ribston’s apples. Let me bear all the punishment." A look of mingled surprise and relief came into the professor’s troubled face, and even the squire’s anger-wrinkled countenance seemed to take on a softer expression, touched with approval of this frank avowal. "Charles Draper, I am very sorry," said Professor Rodwell slowly. "Although you’ve been but a short time with us, I had thought better things of you than this." Charlie’s eyes fell and his lip began to tremble. He was already feeling deep regret for his part in the matter, and these gentle words touched him to the heart. He was just about to express his contrition and ask for sentence upon himself, when the squire exclaimed,— "Charlie Draper! is that Charlie Draper?" "It is," replied Professor Rodwell, wondering why the squire asked. "The same boy that saved my little grandson Hughie from drowning in Deep Pool a week ago?" "Yes, squire, the same boy," replied the professor, now beginning to catch the old gentleman’s drift. "Then," cried the squire, who was as quick of generous impulse as he was of temper, jumping from his seat and advancing toward Charlie, "I don’t want this thing to go any further.—Here’s my hand, my brave lad. You’re welcome to every apple on the tree, if you’ll only come after them in honest, manly fashion, and not be playing such foolish pranks, skulking through the fields when you ought to be abed.—Come, now, Professor Rodwell, let’s cry quits. I’m willing to let the matter rest. Boys will be boys, and if your boys will promise never to go out robbing orchards again, I’ll promise to let ’em into my orchard on Saturday afternoons and take every apple they find in the grass so long as the crop lasts." For a moment the boys were so bewildered by these astounding words that they could hardly credit their ears. Then a spontaneous cheer burst from their throats, and the upshot of the whole matter was that they heartily gave the promise the squire asked; and the professor, relieved beyond measure at the turn affairs had taken, dismissed them with the understanding that the night’s doings should be no further inquired into, provided good behaviour was maintained in future.