David stood on a chair to take Toby off his shelf. Solemn was the face with which the little boy lifted the mug by the handle, putting his other hand to steady the expected weight of coppers; but there was at once a frown, a little cry of horror. Toby came up so light in his hand, that all his great effort was thrown away, and only made him stagger back in dismay, falling backward from the chair, and poor Toby crashing to pieces on the floor as he fell, while out rolled—one solitary farthing! Nobody spoke for some moments; but all stood perfectly still, staring as hard as if they hoped the pence would be brought out by force of looking for them. Then David’s knuckles went up into his eyes, and he burst forth in a loud bellow. It was the first time Miss Fosbrook had heard him cry, and she feared that he had been hurt by the fall, or cut by the broken crockery; but he struck out with foot and fist, as if his tears were as much anger as grief, and roared out, “I want the halfpence for my pig.” “Sam, Sam,” cried Susan, “if you have hid them for a trick, let him have them.” “I—I play tricks _now_?” exclaimed Sam in indignation. “No, indeed!” “Then perhaps Hal has,” said Elizabeth. “For shame, Bessie!” cried Sam. “I only know,” said Elizabeth, half in self-defence, half in fright, “that one of you must have been at the baby-house, for I found the doors open, and shut them up.” “And why should it be one of us?” demanded Sam; while David stopped crying, and listened. “Because none of the younger ones can reach to undo the doors,” said Elizabeth. “It was as much as I could do to reach the upper bolt, though I stood upon a chair.” This was evident; for the baby-house was really an old-fashioned bureau, and below the glass doors there was a projecting slope of polished walnut, upon which only a fly could stand, and which was always locked. No one whose years were less than half a score was tall enough to get a good hold of the button, even from the highest chair, far less to jerk down the rather stiff upper bolt. “It cannot have been a little one, certainly,” said Miss Fosbrook; “but you should not be so ready to accuse your brothers, Bessie.” David, however, had laid hold of a hope, and getting up from the floor, hastened out of the room, followed by John; and they were presently heard shouting “Hal!” all over the house. “What day was it that you found the door open, Bessie?” asked Miss Fosbrook. “It was just after dinner,” said Elizabeth, recollecting herself. “It was on Friday. Yes, I remember it was Friday, because I went into the school-room to get my pencil, and I was afraid Hal would jump out upon me, and looked in first to see whether he was going to be tiresome; but he was gone.” “Yes,” said Susan; “it was the day we found poor Jack stuck up on the gate, when he and Hal were in disgrace. Oh, he never would have played tricks then.”