The vittles looked so nice I couldn't help wantin' 'em; but I didn't take nothin',--it was Sancho, and he took the cake for me." Bab and Betty gave a gasp and stared reproachfully at the poodle, who half closed his eyes with a meek, unconscious look that was very droll.
"And you made him put it back ?" cried Bab.
"No; I did it myself.

Got over the gate when you was racin' after Sancho, and then clim' up on the porch and hid," said the boy with a grin.
"And you laughed ?" asked Bab.
"Yes." "And sneezed ?" added Betty.
"Yes." "And threw down the roses ?" cried both.
"Yes; and you liked 'em, didn't you ?" "Course we did! What made you hide ?" said Bab.
"I wasn't fit to be seen," muttered Ben, glancing at his tatters as if he'd like to dive out of sight into the dark coach again.
"How came you here ?" demanded Mrs.Moss, suddenly remembering her responsibility.
"I heard 'em talk about a little winder and a shed, and when they'd gone I found it and come in.

The glass was broke, and I only pulled the nail out.

I haven't done a mite of harm sleepin' here two nights.

I was so tuckered out I couldn't go on nohow, though I tried a Sunday." "And came back again?
"Yes, 'm; it was so lonesome in the rain, and this place seemed kinder like home, and I could hear 'em talkin' outside, and Sanch he found vittles, and I was pretty comfortable." "Well, I never!" ejaculated Mrs.Moss, whisking up a corner of her apron to wipe her eyes, for the thought of the poor little fellow alone there for two days and nights with no bed but musty straw, no food but the scraps a dog brought him, was too much for her.