But, for the Lord's sake, don't help yourself to a pipeful of tobacco, till I have time to plant the loot deeper in the jar!" He heard the light footfalls of women, upstairs, where Claire, in person, seemed to be superintending the arrangement of his room.

At the sound, a twinge of compunction swept Brice.
But, at memory of her brother's stealthy ransacking of an unconscious guest's clothes, the feeling passed, leaving only a warm battlethrill.
Drowsily, he opened his eyes, and stared with blank wonder up at Milo.

Then, shamefacedly, he mumbled: "I--I hope I wasn't baby enough to--to keel over, Mr.
Standish ?" "That's all right," answered Milo.

"It was my fault.

I was a boor.