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“Let’s hear about it, all the same.”

Poke wriggled, but the Shark’s eye held him. “Well, I was sort of hungry, so I went out to the pantry, and had a nibble.”

“At what?”

“Oh, anything I came across. But it was just a bite.”

“How many bites?”

“Oh, a few, I suppose. It was only a snack.”

“Crackers?”

“No.”

“Cake?”

Poke reddened. “’Twa’n’t cake—it was a piece of pie, if you’ve got to know. But I don’t see——”

The Shark gave a queer, barking laugh. “Ho, ho! Pie, eh? Mince pie, I’ll bet you!”

Poke tried to assume an air of offended dignity. “Well, it was mince, if that’s any comfort to you.”

“Ate a whole pie, didn’t you?”

“No, sir!” shouted Poke indignantly. “It had been cut.”

The Shark turned to the other boys. “Oh, come along!” said he. “Guess we’ve treed the ghost that sat on the foot-rail of Poke’s bed and made faces at him. We’ll be late at school if we don’t wake up.”

Sam and Step moved on with the Shark, Poke following dejectedly.

“All right—have it your own way!” he called after them. “You don’t have to believe anything’s going to happen, but you just wait and see! I tell you, this day is going to be a bad one for somebody!”