The boy, although he could not read so quickly, was ready enough to listen, and as soon as he heard what the advertisement was, he at once became inquisitive to see, so that he might tell those at home, how many bottles - if they were bottles - Mr Weston, for that indeed was the driver's name, carried in his covered car. And if he were lucky - and fortune, it is said, sometimes favours the brave - the child thought he might be able to steal one.
Tom Burt, who was already honoured by a little local fame as a cunning thief, ventured, putting his finger to his lips to keep the girls still, on tiptoe to the front of the car, very softly and silently, hoping and even expecting that the driver of the car would be looking a little to the right hand, at the lady who was now coming nearer.
Tom Burt's knowledge of the habits and ways of men did not betray him. Mr Weston was watching her. Tom saw his chance; he climbed silently up into the car, hoping that he might open the curtain that guarded the contents, look in, take something, descend as quickly, and stand innocently beside the little girls.
[Mr Weston's Good Wine, Powys, T. F.]