"We'll all eat in the good land," replied Flea hopefully.

By this time they had come to the gateway and turned into the street.
Harold Brimbecomb's beautiful home was brilliantly lighted. It appeared
the same to Flea as on the night before, when she had seen Scraggy make
her melancholy play before it.

Flea had refrained from speaking of her midnight fright to Flukey; for
he would but tell her that, like all girls, she was afraid, and a slur
from her brother was more than she could bear.

Flea and Flukey had never been taught to pray, "Lead us not into
temptation." Now, with aching hearts and empty stomachs, they turned in
silence to the richly lighted houses. Flukey dragged himself resolutely
past Brimbecomb's as if he would avoid the desire that suddenly pressed
upon him to ply the trade in which he had been darkly instructed. But he
halted abruptly before the next house, the curtains of which were pulled
up halfway. The long windows reached to the porch floor. Through the
clear glass the children saw a table dressed in all the gorgeousness of
silver and crystal. At the spectacle a clamor for food set up in both
aching stomachs, and the two passed as if by one accord to the porch. As
they peered into the window with longing eyes, Squeaky was held tightly
under Flea's arm; but Snatchet, resting wearily on Flukey's, suddenly
sat up. He, too, had scented something to eat, and thrust in and out a
lean red tongue over pointed, tusky teeth.

"It's time for me to steal, Flea," whispered Flukey, turning feverish
eyes toward his sister.