"Yes, we've landed on our feet at last. Is that shade down? Light
the gas ... keep it turned low,--that's right. Now, let's see. We
won't find much,--family's gone away ... taken all the pie with
'em, as I said, still, there ought to be something--"

We were all rummaging amongst the shelves and cupboards.

"Hum!" said Mr. Daddles, "stove-polish. Anybody want any stove-
polish? Raw oatmeal,--that's a little better, but not much. Not
much choice between 'em. What's this? ... Starch. Nice lot of
nutritious food Aunt Fanny leaves for her burglars. Now, with some
flat-irons and a couple of stove-lids we could make up a jolly
little meal. What have you got there?"

I had found some dried currants in a tin box, Jimmy had a bottle
of vanilla extract, while Ed Mason exhibited a box of tapioca, or
something of the sort.

"Well, well,--this is more careless of Aunt Fanny than leaving the
window unlocked. No wonder she left it unlocked,--she wanted
burglars to come in, and choke to death. I never saw such a lot of
foolish food. Here's some raw macaroni,--another toothsome dish--
nutmegs--pepper--sticky fly-paper,--better and better. Perfectly
delicious!"

"Here you are!" said Ed Mason.

He had found a cake-box, with half a loaf of pound-cake,--the kind
that keeps for years. Just at the same instant I had climbed up on
a shelf and captured two glass tumblers whose contents seemed