then," she finished sharply, snatching the bread and the pail of
milk from the boy's hand.

The next moment David stood alone on the doorstep, with the sound
of a quickly thrown bolt in his ears.

A thief! David knew little of thieves, but he knew what they
were. Only a month before a man had tried to steal the violins
from the cabin; and he was a thief, the milk-boy said. David
flushed now again, angrily, as he faced the closed door. But he
did not tarry. He turned and ran to his father.

"Father, come away, quick! You must come away," he choked.

So urgent was the boy's voice that almost unconsciously the sick
man got to his feet. With shaking hands he thrust the notes he
had been writing into his pocket. The little book, from which he
had torn the leaves for this purpose, had already dropped
unheeded into the grass at his feet.

"Yes, son, yes, we'll go," muttered the man. "I feel better now.
I can--walk."

And he did walk, though very slowly, ten, a dozen, twenty steps.
From behind came the sound of wheels that stopped close beside
them.

"Hullo, there! Going to the village?" called a voice.

"Yes, sir." David's answer was unhesitating. Where "the village"