“Nothing else, sir, as I’m a living man,” energetically returned Sandy. “I hope you don’t think I would touch an article belonging to any one else?” The question was a delicate one, and M^cSweeny did not attempt an answer, further than to state that some things had been missed, and that he was there in his official capacity to investigate the case, and try to find the articles missing. Sandy allowed him to talk on, drinking it all in and becoming brighter and more beaming at every word. “I hope you’ll search every hole and corner in my place, sir,” he fervently exclaimed, when M^cSweeny had done. “I want my character cleared, and my honesty established. What,” he added grandly, “what is dearer to a poor man than his good name? and what would become of my business if folks took me for a thief? I insist on you searching my place—never mind about a warrant, or anything else—my honour is at stake, and I must have it done at once.” He led the way downstairs to his abode, in which M^cSweeny found quite a crowd of small sooty children scrambling about the earthen floor in noisy glee. These were all sent outside, and then Sandy explained to his wife with much warmth the absurd suspicion which had been raised against his character. “I see it all now! I see it all now!” he suddenly exclaimed, smiting his sooty brow with tragic force. “Could anybody believe they would be so cunning?” M^cSweeny hinted that an explanation would be acceptable. “Why, don’t you see, sir—the servants—the servants; they’re at the bottom of this. They’ve taken the chance while we were there to steal the things, knowing the blame would fall on me. You’ve no idea,” he continued, waxing pathetic, “what sweeps have to put up with. There’s scarcely a house we go into that we’re not watched like glaziers on tramp. You can see it in their eyes. It’s hard to be looked at like a thief when you’re doing your best to earn an honest living.” “Are you quite sure now that the boy you had with you mightn’t help himself if he got a dacent chance?” suggested M^cSweeny, by way of appearing to sympathise with the sweep. “Him? Why, he’s my own son!” exclaimed the sweep, as if that quite settled the matter. “But he’s just out in the square there playing at the bools. I’ll send for him, and you can question him yourself.” This was done, and the sooty apprentice appeared, and denied all knowledge of the missing articles.