"Oh, yes. Father is away just now. Professor Endicott came to the house to find him, and he seemed in great trouble. He as good as let the cat out of the bag." "That he was broke?" ejaculated the startled lightkeeper. "Yes. Something like that. To Aunt Ida." "Oh, sugar!" murmured Tobias. Then: "Guess we’re all in the same pickle." "What do you mean?" asked Lorna, a little startled by the sudden change in the expression of the old man’s countenance. "Ain’t you heard?" "Heard what? I have heard nothing at all startling." "Didn’t your folks have any money in the Clinkerport Bank?" "Only Aunt Ida’s household account. A matter of a few hundred dollars. Why?" "You’re terrible lucky, I cal’late." Tobias sighed and shook his head. "You kin afford to lose that much." "Why! what do you mean?" she repeated. "What has happened to the bank?" "Been robbed. Burglars. Last night. Said to have cleaned out the cash. And the bank’s shet up tight." "Mercy!" "Heppy’s purt’ near done up. She——" "But you won’t lose your money, will you? You and Miss Heppy?" "I cal’late. And we never had a mite of fun out of it. Heppy wouldn’t hear to our making no splurge with that legacy we got from Cap’n Jethro Potts. It’s a judgment on us, I believe. I might have got me that silver-banded pipe I’ve always wanted." She looked at him with understanding. "You never would have smoked it, Tobias Bassett." "Well, I could have hung it up over the mantel, couldn’t I, for an ornament? Oh, sugar! My doughnut always did have the biggest hole!" "But if the bank has been robbed——" They came into the head of Clinkerport’s main street as she spoke. Their gaze swept the thoroughfare as far as the bank building which stood directly beside the post-office. A crowd—really a throng for Clinkerport—was gathered in front of the bank’s door. The stores were deserted while the excited people milled before the barred windows and grated door of the bank, and more were coming on foot and in vehicles from all directions. "I cal’late folks is some stirred up," observed Tobias, as he proceeded to get out of the car. CHAPTER XVIII A CLUE Coatless men and bareheaded women made up the excited company before the Clinkerport Bank, while shrill-voiced children circled the outskirts. It was like a circus or a street-fair day for the youngsters. But among the adults there were grave faces. This disaster was a very real one to many who had scrimped and saved—like the Bassetts—for a bank account. The Clinkerport Bank was a "one man institution." If Arad Thompson had mismanaged it, or had not taken sufficient precautions against burglary, the result might be a lasting blow to the community.