had fires when it was cold at our other house, and—"

"Don't!" interrupted Bobbie, in a whisper.

"Well," said the Station Master, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll look over it this once. But you remember, young gentleman, stealing is stealing, and what's mine isn't yours, whether you call it mining or whether you don't. Run along home."

"Do you mean you aren't going to do anything to us? Well, you are a brick," said Peter, with enthusiasm.

"You're a dear," said Bobbie.

"You're a darling," said Phyllis.

"That's all right," said the Station Master.

And on this they parted.

"Don't speak to me," said Peter, as the three went up the hill. "You're spies and traitors,—that's what you are."

But the girls were too glad to have Peter between them, safe and free, and on the way to Three Chimneys and not to the Police Station to mind much what he said.

"We did say it was us as much as you," said Bobbie, gently.

"Well—and it wasn't."