promising. Sure enough,--their labels bore the fascinating words:
"Raspberry Jam." Jimmy Toppan presently discovered a can of soda-
crackers. Mr. Daddles plunged once more into a cupboard and came
forth with a can of the stuff you shine brass with,--the kind with
the horrible smell.

"Always fortunate," he murmured; "well, this will do,--what you've
discovered. I don't seem to have contributed much to the picnic.
We'll get some water to drink, and take this into the dining-room.
I'm about ready to sit down and rest. Come on,--softly, now. Turn
out the light. ... Here's the kitchen ... no, it isn't, either,--
it's a laundry. ... That's funny ... been making improvements, I
guess. Here we are--give me another match. No, don't light the
gas,--no need ... and here's--what's this? Butler's pantry ... yes
... passage ... here's the dining-room. Here we are. Shades down?
Yes ... light the gas ... hullo! Where's the old stuffed sea gull
gone? New paper! Oh, well, it's two years since I was here."

Mr. Daddles wandered around the room for a while, with a puzzled
air, but the rest of us were too hungry to pay much attention to
him. Ed Mason filled a water-pitcher in the butler's pantry, and
Jimmy brought some tumblers from a closet. I opened the jam, and
got some plates and knives. Then we all sat down and began to eat.
I have never tasted anything better than the crackers and jam.
Nobody said anything for a few minutes: we just ate.

Suddenly Mr. Daddles held up his hand,--

"Sh-h-h-h-h!"