do better, but for the knock-down blows that the loving God gives us.
We do not like them, but he does not spare us for that.



Chapter XXIV.

Justifiable burglary.


Tommy rose rubbing his forehead, and crying quietly. He did not dare
say a word. It was well for him he did not. Clare, perplexed and
anxious about the baby, was in no mood to accept annoyance from
Tommy. But the urchin remaining silent, the elder boy's indignation
began immediately to settle down.

The infant lay motionless, its little heart beating doubtfully, like
the ticking of a clock off the level, as if the last beat might be
indeed the last.

"We _must_ get into the house, Tommy!" said Clare.

"Yes, Clare," answered Tommy, very meekly, and went off like a shot to
renew investigation at the other end of the house. He was back in a
moment, his face as radiant with success as such a face could be, with
such a craving little body under it.

"Come, come," he cried. "We can get in quite easy. I ha' _been_ in!"

The keen-eyed monkey had found a cellar-window, sunk a little below