had he yielded to sentiment--not that he knew the word--when he longed
like fire to bury his sharp teeth in that heavenly loaf? Love--not to
mention a little fear--had urged him to carry it straight to Clare,
and this was his reward! He was going to give him up to the baker!
There was gratitude for you! He ought to have known better than trust
_anybody_, even Clare! Nobody was to be trusted but yourself! It did
seem hard to Tommy.

They had scarcely turned the corner when they came upon the cart. The
baker was looking the other way, talking to some one, and Clare
thought to lay down the loaf and say nothing about it: there was no
occasion for the ceremony of apology where offence was unknown. But in
the very act the baker turned and saw him. He sprang upon him, and
collared him. The baker was not nice to look at.

"I have you!" he cried, and shook him as if he would have shaken his
head off.

"It's quite a mistake, sir!" was all Clare could get out, so fierce
was the earthquake that rattled the house of his life.

"Mistaken am I? I like that!--Police!"

And with that the baker shook him again.

A policeman was not far off; he heard the man call, and came running.

"Here's a gen'leman as wants the honour o' your acquaintance, Bob!"
said the baker.