Finally it was finished. With a sigh of relief she
rested a moment in her chair. Just then the silence was broken by a
peculiar sound, like the cautious shifting of a board. That it proceeded
from the cellar was beyond question. A singular rattling followed. She
rose, went into the hall and listened. Yes, there was no delusion about
it: somebody was at the coal,--that coal which, she remembered bitterly,
was now but a small heap in the bin. That the culprit was Stingy Willis
there could be little doubt.
Bernard had fallen asleep on the sofa an hour or more before. His mother
stole to his side, and in a low voice called him. He stirred uneasily.
She called again, whereupon he opened his eyes and stared at her in
bewilderment.
"Hark!" she whispered, signalling to him not to speak.
Once more came the noise, now more distinct and definable. The heartless
intruder had become daring; the click of a shovel was discernible; he was
evidently helping himself liberally.
Bernard looked at his mother in perplexity and surprise.
"Stingy Willis?" he interrogated.
She nodded.
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