“We won’t ferget you in a ’urry, young man,” her father added, “nor the little lady neither.  We’ll ’ave many talks about this ’ere!”

Joan was sitting on the bed, laughing and panting, her curls all disordered.

“I wish,” said William wistfully, “I wish you’d let me come with you when you go stealin’ some day!”

“I’m not goin’ stealin’ no more, young gent,” said his friend solemnly.  “I got a job—­a real steady job—­brick-layin’, an’ I’m goin’ to stick to it.”

All good things must come to an end, and soon William donned his red dressing-gown again and Joan her borrowed cloak, and they helped to store the remnants of the feast in the larder—­the remnants of the feast would provide the ex-burglar and his family with food for many days to come.  Then they took the empty hand-cart and, after many fond farewells, set off homeward through the dark.

Mr. Brown had come home and assumed charge of operations.

Ethel was weeping on the sofa in the library.

“Oh, dear little William!” she sobbed.  “I do wish I’d always been kind to him!”

Mrs. Brown was reclining, pale and haggard, in the arm-chair.

“There’s the Roughborough Canal, John!” she was saying weakly.  “And Joan’s mother will always say it was our fault.  Oh, poor little William!”

“It’s a good ten miles away,” said her husband drily.  “I don’t think even William——­” He rang up fiercely.  “Confound these brainless police!  Hallo!  Any news?  A boy and girl and supper for twenty can’t disappear off the face of the earth.  No, there had been no trouble at home.  There probably will be when he turns up, but there was none before!  If he wanted to run away, why would he burden himself with a supper for twenty?  Why—­one minute!”

The front door opened and Mrs. Brown ran into the hall.

A well-known voice was heard speaking quickly and irritably.

“I jus’ went away, that’s all!  I jus’ thought of something I wanted to do, that’s all!  Yes, I did take the supper.  I jus’ wanted it for something.  It’s a secret what I wanted it for, I——­”

[Illustration:  “WASN’T SHE A JOLLY LITTLE KID?” WILLIAM SAID EAGERLY.]

“William!” said Mr. Brown.

Through the scenes that followed William preserved a dignified silence, even to the point of refusing any explanation.  Such explanation as there was filtered through from Joan’s mother by means of the telephone.

“It was all William’s idea,” Joan’s mother said plaintively.  “Joan would never have done anything if William hadn’t practically made her.  I expect she’s caught her death of cold.  She’s in bed now——­”

“Yes, so is William.  I can’t think what they wanted to take all the food for.  And he was just a common man straight from prison.  It’s dreadful.  I do hope they haven’t picked up any awful language.  Have you given Joan some quinine?  Oh, Mrs. Murford’s just rung up to see if Sadie’s cloak has turned up.  Will you send it round?  I feel so upset by it all.  If it wasn’t Christmas Eve——­”