“Don’t you?” screamed Miss Lavinia.  “Oh, you precious rascal!  Here I’ve worked my fingers off to keep you respectable, and you go and disgrace me shamefully.  Go to your room, Andy Wildwood.  We’ll attend to this matter of yours in the morning.”

“What matter?” demanded Andy.

“Never mind, now.  Do as I say.  There’s a rod in pickle for you, young man, that may bring you to your senses this time.”

Andy preferred loneliness up stairs to nagging down stairs.  He left the kitchen and reached his own room.  He lit a candle and sat down on the bed.

There was a sharp click at the door almost immediately.  His aunt had stolen silently up the stairs and had bolted him in.

“As if that would keep me if I wanted to get out very bad!” thought Andy, with a glance at the frail door.  “Oh, but I’m tired of all this!  I’ve made up my mind.  I shall leave Fairview.”

Andy went to a shelf, felt in an old vase, and took out a key.

He fitted it to the lower drawer of the bureau in the room.  It was full of old clothes and papers that had belonged to his father.

Finally Andy unearthed a little wooden box, and lifted it to the light.  It held a lot of trinkets, and from among them Andy selected a large silver watch and chain.  He also took out a small box.  It was made of some very dark smooth wood, and its corners and center were decorated with carved pieces of gold and mother of pearl.

“The watch and chain are solid silver,” murmured Andy.  “The box was given to father by his father.  It is made of some rare wood that grows in the South Sea islands.  The gold on it is quite thick.  I am sure the bare metal on those things is worth more than thirty dollars.”

Andy carefully stowed the watch and little box in an inner pocket.  Then he lay down on the bed to think, but without removing any of his clothing.

He silently munched the biscuits.  His face cleared as reflection led to determination.  Andy planned to leave the house as soon as it was closed up for the night and Aunt Lavinia was asleep.

“I can’t stand it,” he decided.  “She says I’m a burden to her.  I’ve got a show to enjoy myself and maybe make some money.  Yes, it’s Centreville and the circus by morning.”

Andy was more tired out than he had fancied.  He fell asleep.  As he woke up, he discovered that heavy footsteps tramping up the stairs had aroused him.

He had caught the echo of lighter feet.  There was rustling in the narrow entry outside.

Andy sprang up and listened intently.

“Aunt Lavinia and some one with her,” he reflected.  “I wonder who it can be?”

Just then a gruff voice spoke out: 

“Is the boy in that room, Miss Lavinia?”

“Yes,” said Andy’s aunt.

“Then have him out, and let’s have this unpleasant duty over and done with.”

CHAPTER VIII