"There you go!" ejaculated Tobias, with heat. "That boy never did value money. If he wanted to do a thing he’d do it, never mind if it cost him his last cent." "Wal," was the dry response, as Zeke got up from the table, "if Endicott had in that suitcase what folks say he had, I reckon it didn’t cost him his last cent to satisfy even such a hog as Gyp Pellet." Tobias wagged his head and said nothing further. He was more puzzled than ever now. It did look as though there was something peculiar about Ralph’s departure from home. The old-lightkeeper would not believe anything against the character of the boy he had watched grow up and loved so well. He knew Ralph Endicott was not perfect; but he was "toler’ble sure," as he expressed it, that Ralph was no bank burglar. He was as anxious now over the absent youth as Lorna was, and Lorna had spent a most unhappy night. She arose on this wild and turbulent morning unable to hide from even the casual glance the traces of tears and sleeplessness. And Miss Ida’s glance was never casual. The moment Lorna slipped into the breakfast room—a wee bit late, perhaps—her aunt looked up from behind the coffee percolator. She was saying: "I do wish John Nicholet would return. All I get is a scrawl here," she tapped the letter beside her plate, "saying that he may be delayed a day or two longer in Boston. I am worried, Lorna, about Prof—about the Endicotts. If only Ralph had not gone away I certainly would put the question to him frankly. If the family is in financial difficulties—— What is the matter, Lorna?" Her tone was sharp. For once Miss Ida’s calm was fretted by her niece’s appearance. "Are you ill?" she cried. "Why, no, Aunt Ida." "What is the matter then?" "I—I—oh, Auntie! The Clinkerport Bank! They say Ralph robbed it!" "They say—— Are you crazy, child?" "No, no! It’s true!" "What is true?" demanded Miss Ida, her cheeks actually reddening. "Do you mean to tell me, Lorna Nicholet, that you for one instant believe such a vile calumny about Ralph Endicott?" "But—but the police are hunting him. He has run away. He hired a boat down at Peehawket Cove and nobody knows where he has gone in it." "What has that to do with the bank robbery?" asked Miss Ida severely. Finally Lorna recovered her voice sufficiently to give a detailed account of the events connecting Ralph’s name with the burglary. Miss Ida listened with haughty impatience. When her niece had finished the spinster actually snorted—no other word just expresses it! "Lorna! I think you are a fool," she declared. "If Ralph told me himself he had committed a burglary I should not believe it." "You do not know what temptation he may have had," faltered the girl.