MARY LOUISEIN THE COUNTRY

ByEdith Van DyneAuthor of"Aunt Jane's Nieces Series"

Frontispiece byJ. Allen St. JohnThe Reilly & Lee Co. Chicago

Copyright, 1916byThe Reilly & Britton Co. 

_Mary Louise in the Country_

CONTENTS

I THE ARRIVALII THE KENTON PLACEIII THE FOLKS ACROSS THE RIVERIV GETTING ACQUAINTEDV MARY LOUISE BECOMS A PEACEMAKERVI THE AFTERNOON TEAVII MARY LOUISE CALLS FOR HELPVIII THE RED-HEADED GIRLIX JOSIE INVESTIGATESX INGUA IS CONFIDENTIALXI THE FATE OF NED JOSELYNXII THEORIES ARE DANGEROUSXIII BLUFF AND REBUFFXIV MIDNIGHT VIGILSXV "OLD SHADOWTAIL"XVI INGUA'S NEW DRESSXVII A CLEW AT LASTXVIII DOUBTS AND SUSPICIONSXIX GOOD MONEY FOR BADXX AN UNEXPECTED APPEARANCEXXI A CASE OF NERVESXXII INGUA'S MOTHERXXIII PECULIAR PEOPLEXXIV FACING DANGERXXV FATHER AND DAUGHTERXXVI THE PLOTXXVII NAN'S TRIUMPHXXVIII PLANNING THE FUTURE

Mary Louise in the Country

CHAPTER ITHE ARRIVAL

"Is this the station, Gran'pa Jim?" inquired a young girl, as the trainbegan to slow up. 

"I think so, Mary Louise, " replied the handsome old gentlemanaddressed. 

"It does look very promising, does it?" she continued, glancing eagerlyout of the window. 

"The station? No, my dear; but the station isn't Cragg's Crossing, youknow; it is merely the nearest railway point to our new home. "

The conductor opened their drawing-room door. 

"The next stop is Chargrove, Colonel, " he said. 

"Thank you. "

The porter came for their hand baggage and a moment later the longtrain stopped and the vestibule steps were let down. 

If you will refer to the time-table of the D. R. & G. Railway you willfind that the station of Chargrove is marked with a character dagger([Picture: Character dagger]), meaning that trains stop there only tolet off passengers or, when properly signaled, to let them on. MaryLouise, during the journey, had noted this fact with misgivings thatwere by no means relieved when she stepped from the sumptuous train andfound before her merely a shed-like structure, open on all sides, thatserved as station-house. 

Colonel Hathaway and his granddaughter stood silently upon the platformof this shed, their luggage beside them, and watched their trunkstumbled out of the baggage car ahead and the train start, gather speed, and go rumbling on its way. Then the girl looked around her to discoverthat the primitive station was really the only barren spot in thelandscape. 

For this was no Western prairie country, but one of the oldest settledand most prosperous sections of a great state that had been one of theoriginal thirteen to be represented by a star on our national banner. Chargrove might not be much of a railway station, as it was only elevenmiles from a big city, but the country around it was exceedinglybeautiful. Great oaks and maples stood here and there, some in groupsand some in stately solitude; the land was well fenced and carefullycultivated; roads--smooth or rutty--led in every direction; flocks andherds were abundant; half hidden by hills or splendid groves peeped theroofs of comfortable farmhouses that evidenced the general prosperityof the community. 

"Uncle Eben is late, isn't he, Gran'pa Jim?" asked the girl, as hereyes wandered over the pretty, peaceful scene. 

Colonel Hathaway consulted his watch. 

"Our train was exactly on time, " he remarked, "which is more than canbe said for old Eben. But I think, Mary Louise, I now see an automobilecoming along the road. If I am right, we have not long to wait. "

He proved to be right, for presently a small touring car came bumpingacross the tracks and halted at the end of the platform on which theystood. It was driven by an old colored man whose hair was snow whitebut who sprang from his seat with the agility of a boy when Mary Louiserushed forward with words of greeting. 

"My, Uncle Ebe, but it's good to see you again!" she exclaimed, takingboth his dusky hands in her own and shaking them cordially. "How isAunt Polly, and how is your 'rheum'tics'?"

"Rheum'tics done gone foh good, Ma'y Weeze, " he said, his round faceall smiles. "Dis shuah am one prosterous country foh health. Nobuddysick but de invahlids, an' dey jus' 'magines dey's sick, dat's all. "

"Glad to see you, Uncle, " said the Colonel. "A little late, eh?--asusual. But perhaps you had a tire change. "

"No, seh, Kun'l, no tire change. I was jus' tryin' to hurry 'long datlazy Joe Brennan, who's done comin' foh de trunks. Niggehs is slow, Kun'l, dey ain't no argyment 'bout dat, but when a white man's areg'leh loaf eh, seh, dey ain' no niggeh kin keep behind him. "

"Joe Brennan is coming, then?"

"Dat's right, Kun'l; he's comin'. Done start befoh daylight, in delumbeh-wagin. But when I done ketch up wi' dat Joe--a mile 'n' a halfaway--he won't lis'n to no reason. So I dodged on ahead to tell you-unsdat Joe's on de way. "

"How far is it from here to Cragg's Crossing, then?" inquired MaryLouise. 

"They call it ten miles, " replied her grandfather, "but I imagine it'snearer twelve. "

"And this is the nearest railway station?"

"Yes, the nearest. But usually the Crossing folks who own motor carsdrive to the city to take the trains. We alighted here because in ourown case it was more convenient and pleasant than running into the cityand out again, and it will save us time. "

"We be home in half'n hour, mos' likely, " added Uncle Eben, as heplaced the suit cases and satchels in the car. Colonel Hathaway andMary Louise followed and took their seats. 

"Is it safe to leave our trunks here?" asked the girl. 

"Undoubtedly, " replied her grandfather. "Joe Brennan will doubtlessarrive before long and, really, there is no person around to stealthem. "

"I've an idea I shall like this part of the country, " said Mary Louisemusingly, as they drove away. 

"I am confident you will, my dear. "

"Is Cragg's Crossing as beautiful as this?"

"I think it more beautiful. "

"And how did you happen to find it, Gran'pa Jim? It seems as isolatedas can be. "

"A friend and I were taking a motor trip and lost our way. A farmertold us that if we went to Cragg's Crossing we would find a good roadto our destination. We went there, following the man's directions, andencountered beastly roads but found a perfect gem of a tiny, antiquatedtown which seems to have been forgotten or overlooked by map-makers, automobile guides and tourists. My friend had difficulty in getting meaway from the town, I was so charmed with it. Before I left I haddiscovered, by dint of patient inquiry, a furnished house to let, andyou know, of course, that I promptly secured the place for the summer. That's the whole story, Mary Louise. "

"It is interesting, " she remarked. "As a result of your famousdiscovery you sent down Uncle Eben and Aunt Polly, with our car and alot of truck you thought we might need, and now--when all is ready--youand I have come to take possession. "

"Rather neatly arranged, I think, " declared the Colonel, withsatisfaction. 

"Do you know anything about the history of the place, Gran'pa, or ofthe people who live in your tiny, forgotten town?"

"Nothing whatever. I imagine there are folks Cragg's Crossing who havenever been a dozen miles away from it since they were born. The villageboasts a 'hotel'--the funniest little inn you can imagine--where we hadan excellent home-cooked meal; and there is one store and ablacksmith's shop, one church and one schoolhouse. These, with half adozen ancient and curiously assorted residences, constitute the shy andretiring town of Cragg's Crossing. Ah, think we have found JoeBrennan. "

Uncle Eben drew up beside a rickety wagon drawn by two sorry nags whojust now were engaged in cropping grass from the roadside. On the seathalf reclined a young man who was industriously eating an apple. Hewore a blue checked shirt open at the throat, overalls, suspenders anda straw hat that had weathered many seasons of sunshine and rain. Hisfeet were encased in heavy boots and his bronzed face betokened anout-of-door life. There are a million countrymen in the United Statesjust like Joe Brennan in outward appearance. 

Joe did not stop munching; he merely stared as the automobile stoppedbeside him. 

"Say, you Joe!" shouted Uncle Eben indignatly, "wha' foh yo' donesett'n' heah?"

"Rest'n', " said Joe Brennan, taking another bite from his apple. 

"Ain't yo' gwine git dem trunks home to-day?" demanded the old darkey. 

Joe seemed to consider this question carefully before he ventured tocommit himself. Then he looked at Colonel Hathaway and said:

"What I want t' know, Boss, is whether I'm hired by the hour, er by theday?"

"Didn't Uncle Eben tell you?"

"Naw, he didn't. He jes' said t' go git the trunks an' he'd gimme adollar fer the trip. "

"Well, that seems to settle the question, doesn't it!"

"Not quite, Boss. I be'n thinkin' it over, on the way, an' a dollar'stoo pesky cheap fer this trip. Sometimes I gits twenty-five cents ahour fer haulin' things, an' this looks to me like a day's work. "

"If you made good time, " said Colonel Hathaway, "you might do it easilyin four hours. "

Joe shook his head. 

"Not me, sir, " he replied. "I hain't got the constitution fer it. An'them hosses won't trot 'less I lick 'em, an' ef I lick 'em I'm guiltyo' cru'lty ter animals--includin' myself. No, Boss, the job's toocheap, so I guess I'll give it up an' go home. "

"But you're nearly at the station now, " protested the Colonel. 

"I know; but it's half a mile fu'ther an' the hosses is tired. I guessI'll go home. "

"Oh, Gran'pa!" whispered Mary Louise, "it'll never do to leave ourtrunks lying there by the railroad tracks. "

The Colonel eyed Joe thoughtfully. 

"If you were hired by the day, " said he, "I suppose you would do aday's work?"

"I'd hev to, " admitted Joe. "That's why I 'asked ye how about it. Jes'now it looks to me like I ain't hired at all. The black man said he'dgimme a dollar fer the trunks, that's all. "

"How much do you charge a day?" asked the Colonel. 

"Dollar 'n' a quarter's my reg'lar price, an' I won't take no less, "asserted Joe. 

Mary Louise nearly laughed outright, but the Colonel frowned and said:

"Joe Brennan, you've got me at your mercy. I'm going to hire you by theday, at a dollar and a quarter, and as your time now belongs to me Irequest you to go at once for those trunks. You will find them justbeyond the station. "

The man's face brightened. He tossed away the core of his apple andjerked the reins to make the horses hold up their heads. 

"A bargain's a bargain, Boss, " he remarked cheerfully, "so I'll getthem air trunks to yer house if it takes till midnight. "

"Very good, " said the Colonel. "Drive on, Uncle. "

The old servant started the motor. 

"Dat's what I calls downright robbery, Kun'l, " he exclaimed, highlyincensed. "Didn't I ask de stoahkeepeh what to pay Joe Brennen fohbringin' oveh dem trunks, an' didn't he say a dolleh is big pay fohsuch-like a trip? If we's gwine live in dis town, where day don'un'stand city prices an' de high cost o' livin' yit, we gotta hol' 'emdown an' keep 'em from speckilatin' with us, or else we'll spile 'emfer de time when we's gone away. "

"Very true, Uncle. Has Joe a competitor?"

Uncle Eben reflected. 

"Ef he has, Kun'l, I ain't seen it, " he presently replied; "but I guessall he's got is dat lumbeh-wagin. "

Mary Louise had enjoyed the controversy immensely and was relieved bythe promise of the trunks by midnight. For the first time in her lifethe young orphaned girl was to play housekeeper for her grandfather andsurely one of her duties was to see that the baggage was safelydeposited in their new home. 

This unknown home in an unknown town had an intense fascination for herjust now. Her grandfather had been rather reticent in his descriptionof the house he had rented at Cragg's Crossing, merely asserting it wasa "pretty place" and ought to make them a comfortable home for thesummer. Nor had the girl questioned him very closely, for she loved to"discover things" and be surprised--whether pleasurably or not did notgreatly interfere with the thrill. 

The motor took them speedily along a winding way to Cragg's Crossing, atoy town that caused Mary Louise to draw a long breath of delight atfirst sight. The "crossing" of two country roads had probably resulted, at some far-back period, in farmers' building their residences on thefour corners, so as to be neighborly. Farm hands or others built littledwellings adjoining--not many of them, though--and some unambitious ormisdirected merchant erected a big frame "store" and sold groceries, dry goods and other necessities of life not only to the community atthe Crossing but to neighboring farmers. Then someone started thelittle "hotel, " mainly to feed the farmers who came to the store totrade or the "drummers" who visited it to sell goods. A church and aschoolhouse naturally followed, in course of time, and then, as if itsdestiny were fulfilled, the sleepy little town--ten miles from thenearest railway--gradually settled into the comatose state in whichColonel Hathaway and his granddaughter now found it. 

CHAPTER IITHE KENTON PLACE

The tiny town, however, was not all that belonged to the Cragg'sCrossing settlement. Barely a quarter of a mile away from the village astream with beautifully wooded banks ran diagonally through thecountryside. It was called a "river" by the natives, but it was more ofa creek; halfway between a small rivulet and a brook, perhaps. But itsbanks afforded desirable places for summer residences, several of whichhad been built by well-to-do families, either retired farmers or citypeople who wished for a cool and quiet place in which to pass thesummer months. 

These residences, all having ample grounds and facing the creek oneither side, were sufficiently scattered to be secluded, and it was toone of the most imposing of these that Uncle Eben guided theautomobile. He crossed the creek on a primitive but substantial bridge, turned to the right, and the first driveway led to the house that wasto be Mary Louise's temporary home. 

"This is lovely!" exclaimed the girl, as they rolled up a winding driveedged by trees and shrubbery, and finally drew up before the entranceof a low and rambling but quite modern house. There was Aunt Polly, herround black face all smiles, standing on the veranda to greet them, andMary Louise sprang from the car first to hug the old servant--UncleEben's spouse--and then to run in to investigate the establishment, which seemed much finer than she had dared to imagine it. 

The main building was of two stories, but the wings, several of whichjutted out in various directions, were one story in height, somewhat onthe bungalow plan. There was a good-sized stable in connection--nowused as a garage--and down among the oaks toward the river an openpavilion had been built. All the open spaces were filled with flowersand ferns, in beds and borders, and graveled paths led here and therein a very enticing way. But the house was now the chief fascination andthe other details Mary Louise gleaned by sundry glances from openwindows as she rambled from room to room. 

At luncheon, which Aunt Polly served as soon as her young mistresscould be coaxed from her tour of inspection, the girl said:

"Gran'pa Jim, who owns this place?"

"A Mrs. Joselyn, " he replied. 

"A young woman?"

"I believe so. It was built by her mother, a Mrs. Kenton, some fifteenyears ago, and is still called 'the Kenton Place. ' Mrs. Kenton died andher daughter, who married a city man named Joselyn, has used it as asummer home until this year. I think Mrs. Joselyn is a woman ofconsiderable means. "

"The furnishings prove that, " said Mary Louise. "They're not all in thebest of taste, but they are plentiful and meant to be luxurious. Whydoesn't Mrs. Joselyn occupy her home this summer? And why, if she iswealthy, does she rent the place?"

"Those are problems I am unable to solve, my dear, " replied the Colonelwith a smile. "When old man Cragg, who is the nearest approach to areal estate agent in the village, told me the place was for rent, Iinquired the price and contracted to lease it for the summer. Thatsatisfied me, Mary Louise, but if you wish to inquire into the historyand antecedents of the Kenton and Joselyn families, I have no doubtthere are plenty of village gossips who can fill your ears full of it. "

"Dar's one thing I foun' out, seh, " remarked Uncle Eben, who alwaysserved at table and was not too diffident to join in the conversationof his betters, at times; "dis Joselyn man done dis'pear--er run away--er dig out, somehow--an' he missus is mos' plumb crazy 'bout it. "

"When did that happen?" asked Mary Louise. 

"'Bout Chris'mas time, de stoahkeepah say. Nobody don't like him downheah, 'cause he put on a 'strord'nary 'mount o' airs an' didn't mix widde town people, nohow. De stoahkeepeh t'inks Marse Joselyn amcrooked-like an' done squandeh a lot o' he wife's money befoh he went. "

"Perhaps, " said Mary Louise musingly, "that is why the poor woman isglad to rent this house. I wish, however, we had gotten it for a morepleasant reason. "

"Don't pay attention to Eben's chatter, my dear, " advised hergrandfather. "His authority seems to be the ancient storekeeper, whom Isaw but once and didn't fancy. He looks like an old owl, in those big, horn-rimmed spectacles. "

"Dat stoahkeepeh ain' no owl, Kun'l, " asserted Uncle Eben earnestly. "He done know all dey is to know 'roun' dese diggin's, an' a lot moah, too. An' a owl is a mighty wise bird, Kun'l, ef I do say it, an' nodisrespec'; so what dat stoahkeepeh say I's boun' to take notice of. "

Mary Louise spent the afternoon in examining her new possession and"getting settled. " For--wonder of wonders!--Joe Brennan arrived withthe trunks at three o'clock, some nine hours before the limit ofmidnight. The Colonel, as he paid the man, congratulated him on makingsuch good time. 

"Ya-as, " drawled Joe; "I done pretty well, considerin'. But if I hadn'thired out by the day I'd sure be'n a loser. I've be'n a good ten hoursgoin' fer them trunks, fer I started at five this mornin'; so, if I'dtooken a doller fer the job, I'd only made ten cents a hour, my pricebein' twenty-five. But, as it is, " he added with pride, "I git myreg'lar rate of a dollar 'n' a quarter a day. "

"Proving that it pays to drive a bargain, " commented the Colonel. 

Mary Louise unpacked Gran'pa Jim's trunk first and put his room in"apple-pie order, " as Aunt Polly admiringly asserted. Then she settledher own pretty room, held a conference with her servants about themeals and supplies, and found it was then time to dress for dinner. Shewas not yet old enough to find household duties a bore, so theafternoon had been delightfully spent. 

Early after breakfast the next morning, however, Mary Louise startedout to explore the grounds of her domain. The day was full of sunshineand the air laden with fragrance of flowers--a typical May morning. Gran'pa Jim would, of course, read for an hour or two and smoke hispipe; he drew a chair upon the broad veranda for this very purpose; butthe girl had the true pioneer spirit of discovery and wanted to knowexactly what her five acres contained. 

The water was doubtless the prime attraction in such a neighborhood. Mary Louise made straight for the river bank and found the shallowstream--here scarce fifty feet in width--rippling along over its stonybed, which was a full fifty feet wider than the volume of water thenrequired. When the spring freshets were on perhaps the stream reachedits banks, but in the summer months it was usually subdued as now. Thebanks were four feet or more above the rabble of stones below, andclose to the bank, facing the river on her side, Mrs. Kenton had builta pretty pavilion with ample seats and room for half a dozen wickerchairs and a table, where one could sit and overlook the water. MaryLouise fervently blessed the old lady for this idea and at once seatedherself in the pavilion while she examined at leisure the scene spreadout before her. 

Trees hid all the neighboring residences but one. Just across the riverand not far from its bank stood a small, weather-beaten cottage thatwas in sharp contrast with the rather imposing Kenton residenceopposite. It was not well kept, nor even picturesque. The grounds wereunattractive. A woodpile stood in the front yard; the steps leading tothe little porch had rotted away and had been replaced by a plank--rather unsafe unless one climbed it carefully, Mary Louise thought. There were time-worn shades to the windows, but no curtains. A pane ofglass had been broken in the dormer window and replaced by a foldednewspaper tacked over it. Beside the porch door stood a washtub onedge; a few scraggly looking chickens wandered through the yard; if notan abode of poverty it was surely a place where careless indifferenceto either beauty or the comfort of orderly living prevailed. 

So much Mary Louise had observed, wondering why Mrs. Kenton had notbought the cottage and torn it down, since it was a blot on thesurrounding landscape, when she saw the door open and a man come out. She gave a little gasp of astonishment as her eyes followed this man, who slowly took the path to the bridge, from whence the road led intothe village. 

CHAPTER IIITHE FOLKS ACROSS THE RIVER

Her first glance told the girl that here was a distinctly unusualpersonage. His very appearance was quaint enough to excite comment froma stranger. It must have been away back in the revolutionary days whenmen daily wore coats cut in this fashion, straight across thewaist-line in front and with two long tails flapping behind. Modern"dress coats" were much like it, to be sure, but this was of a fadedblue-bottle color and had brass buttons and a frayed velvet collar on it. His trousers were tight-fitting below the knee and he wore gaiters anda wide-brimmed silk hat that rivaled his own age and had doubtless seenhappier days. 

Mary Louise couldn't see all these details from her seat in thepavilion across the river, but she was near enough to observe thegeneral effect of the old man's antiquated costume and it amazed her. 

Yes, he was old, nearly as ancient as his apparel, the girl decided;but although he moved with slow deliberation his gait was not feeble, by any means. With hands clasped behind him and head slightly bowed, asif in meditation, he paced the length of the well-worn path, reachedthe bridge and disappeared down the road toward the village. 

"That, " said a voice beside her, "is the Pooh-Bah of Cragg's Crossing. It is old Cragg himself. "

Gran'pa Jim was leaning against the outer breast of the pavilion, bookin hand. 

"You startled me, " she said, "but no more than that queer old man did. Was the village named after him, Gran'pa?"

"I suppose so; or after his father, perhaps, for the place seems evenolder than old Cragg. He has an 'office' in a bare little room over thestore, and I rented this place from him. Whatever his former fortunesmay have been--and I imagine the Craggs once owned all the land abouthere--old Hezekiah seems reduced to a bare existence. "

"Perhaps, " suggested Mary Louise, "he inherited those clothes with theland, from his father. Isn't it an absurd costume, Gran'pa Jim? And inthese days of advanced civilization, too! Of course old Hezekiah Craggis not strong mentally or he would refuse to make a laughingstock ofhimself in that way. "

Colonel Hathaway stared across the river for a time without answering. Then he said:

"I do not think the natives here laugh at him, although I remember theycalled him 'Old Swallowtail' when I was directed to him as the onlyresident real estate agent. I found the old man quite shrewd in drivinga bargain and thoroughly posted on all the affairs of the community. However, he is not a gossip, but inclined to be taciturn. There is afathomless look in his eyes and he is cold and unresponsive. Countrylife breeds strange characteristics in some people. The whimsical dressand mannerisms of old Mr. Cragg would not be tolerated in the cities, while here they seem regarded with unconcern because they have becomefamiliar. I was rather, pleased with his personality because he is theCragg of Cragg's Crossing. How much of the original plot of land hestill owns I don't know. "

"Why, he lives in that hovel!" said the girl. 

"So it seems, although he may have been merely calling there. "

"He fits the place, " she declared. "It's old and worn and neglected, just as he and his clothes are. I'd be sorry, indeed, to discover thatMr. Cragg lives anywhere else. "

The Colonel, his finger between the leaves of the book he held, to markthe place where he was reading, nodded somewhat absently and started toturn away. Then he paused to ask anxiously:

"Does this place please you, my dear?"

"Ever so much, Gran'pa Jim!" she replied with enthusiasm, leaning fromher seat inside the pavilion to press a kiss upon his bare gray head. "I've a sense of separation from all the world, yet it seems good to behidden away in this forgotten nook. Perhaps I wouldn't like it foralways, you know, but for a summer it is simply delightful. We canrest--and rest--and rest!--and be as cozy as can be. "

Again the old gentleman nodded, smiling at the girl this time. Theywere good chums, these two, and what pleased one usually pleased theother. 

Colonel Hathaway had endured a sad experience recently and his handsomeold face still bore the marks of past mental suffering. His onlydaughter, Beatrice Burrows, who was the mother of Mary Louise, had beenindirectly responsible for the Colonel's troubles, but her death hadlifted the burden; her little orphaned girl, to whom no blame could beattached, was very dear to "Gran'pa Jim's" heart. Indeed, she was allhe now had to love and care for and he continually planned to promoteher happiness and to educate her to become a noble woman. Fortunatelyhe had saved considerable money from the remains of an immense estatehe had once possessed and so was able to do anything for his grandchildthat he desired. In New York and elsewhere Colonel James Hathaway had ahost of influential friends, but he was shy of meeting them since hislate unpleasant experiences. 

Mary Louise, for her part, was devotedly attached to her grandfatherand preferred his society to that of any other person. As the erectform of the old gentleman sauntered away through the trees she lookedafter him affectionately and wagged her little head with heartyapproval. 

"This is just the place for Gran'pa Jim, " she mused. "There's no one tobother him with questions or sympathy and he can live as quietly as helikes and read those stuffy old books--the very name 'classics' makesme shudder--to his heart's content. He'll grow stronger and happierhere, I'm sure. "

Then she turned anew to revel in the constantly shifting view of riverand woodland that extended panoramically from her seat in the pavilion. As her eyes fell on the old cottage opposite she was surprised to see adishpan sail through the open window, to fall with a clatter of brokendishes on the hard ground of the yard. A couple of dish-towelsfollowed, and then a broom and a scrubbing-brush--all tossed out in anangry, energetic way that scattered them in every direction. Then onthe porch appeared the form of a small girl, poorly dressed in a shabbygingham gown, who danced up and down for a moment as if mad with rageand then, observing the washtub, gave it a kick which sent it rollingoff the porch to join the other utensils on the ground. 

Next, the small girl looked around her as if seeking more inanimatethings upon which to vent her anger, but finding none she dashed intothe cottage and soon reappeared with a much-worn straw hat which shejammed on her flaxen head and then, with a determined air, walked downthe plank and marched up the path toward the bridge--the same directionthat old Cragg had taken a short time before. 

Mary Louise gave a gasp of amazement. The scene had been dramatic andexciting while it lasted and it needed no explanation whatever. Thechild had plainly rebelled at enforced drudgery and was going--where?

Mary Louise sprang lightly from her seat and ran through the grounds totheir entrance. When she got to the road she sped along until she cameto the bridge, reaching one end of it just as the other girl started tocross from the opposite end. Then she stopped and in a moment the twomet. 

"Where are you going?" asked Mary Louise, laying a hand on the child'sarm as she attempted to pass her. 

"None o' yer business, " was the curt reply. 

"Oh, it is, indeed, " said Mary Louise, panting a little from her run. "I saw you throw things, a minute ago, so I guess you mean to runaway. "

The girl turned and stared at her. 

"I don't know ye, " said she. "Never saw ye before. Where'd ye come fromanyway?"

"Why, my grandfather and I have taken the Kenton house for the summer, so we're to be your neighbors. Of course, you know, we must getacquainted. "

"Ye kin be neighbors to my Gran'dad, if ye like, but not to me. Not bya ginger cookie! I've done wi' this place fer good an' all, I hev, andif ye ever see me here ag'in my name ain't Ingua Scammel!"

"Here; let's sit down on the bridge and talk it over, " proposed MaryLouise. "There's plenty of time for you to run away, if you think you'dbetter. Is Mr. Cragg your grandfather, then?"

"Yes, Ol' Swallertail is. 'Ol' Humbug' is what _I_ calls him. "

"Not to his face, do you?"

"I ain't so foolish. He's got a grip on him like a lobster, an' whenhe's mad at me he grips my arm an' twists it till I holler. WhenGran'dad's aroun' you bet I hev to knuckle down, er I gits the worst ofit. "

"So he's cruel, is he?"

"Uh-huh. Thet is, he's cruel when I riles him, as I got a habit o'doin'. When things runs smooth, Gran'dad ain't so bad; but I ain'tgoin' to stand that slave life no longer, I ain't. I've quit fer good. "

"Wherever you go, " said Mary Louise gently, "you will have to work forsomeone. Someone, perhaps, who treats you worse than your grandfatherdoes. No one else is obliged to care for you in any way, so perhapsyou're not making a wise change. "

"I ain't, eh?"

"Perhaps not. Have you any other relatives to go to?"

"No. "

"Or any money?"

"Not a red cent. "

"Then you'll have to hire out as a servant. You're not big enough orstrong enough to do much, so you'll search a long time before you findwork, and that means being hungry and without shelter. I know more ofthe world than you do, Ingua--what an odd name you have!--and Ihonestly think you are making a mistake to run away from your owngrandfather. "

The girl stared into the water in sullen silence for a time. MaryLouise got a good look at her now and saw that her freckled face mightbe pretty if it were not so thin and drawn. The hands lying on her lapwere red and calloused with housework and the child's whole appearanceindicated neglect, from the broken-down shoes to the soiled andtattered dress. She seemed to be reflecting, for after a while she gavea short, bitter laugh at the recollection of her late exhibition oftemper and said:

"It's too late to back, down now. I've busted the dishes an' smashedthings gen'rally. "

"That _is_ bad, " said Mary Louise; "but it might be worse. Mr. Craggcan buy more dishes. "

"Oh, he can, can he? Where's the money comin' from?"

"Is he poor?"

"He ain't got no money, if that's what ye mean. That's what he says, anyhow. Says it were a godsend you folks rented that house of him, 'cause it'll keep us in corn bread an' pork for six months, ef we'rekeerful. Bein' keerful means that he'll eat the pork an' I gits a chunko' corn bread now an' then. "

"Dear me!" exclaimed Mary Louise in a distressed voice. "Don't you getenough to eat?"

"Oh, I manages it somehow, " declared Ingua, with indifference. "I be'nswipin' one egg a day fer weeks an' weeks. Gran'dad says he'll trim megood an' plenty if he catches me eatin' eggs, 'cause all that ourchickens lays he takes down to the store an' sells. But he ain't homedaytimes, to count what eggs is laid, an' so I watches out an' grabsone a day. He's mighty cute, I tell ye, Gran'dad is; but he ain't cuteenough to catch me at the egg-swipin'. "

Mary Louise was greatly shocked. Really, she decided, something must bedone for this poor child. Looking at the matter from Ingua's report, the smashing of the dishes might prove serious. So she said:

"Come, dear, let's go together to your house and see if we can'trestore the damage. "

But the girl shook her head. 

"Noth'n' can't mend them busted dishes, " she said, "an' when Gran'dadsees 'em he'll hev a fit. That's why I did it; I wanted to show him I'dhad revenge afore I quit him cold. He won't be home till night, but Igotta be a long way off, afore then, so's he can't ketch me. "

"Give it up, " suggested Mary Louise. "I've come here to live allsummer, Ingua, and now that we're friends I'm going to help you to getalong more comfortably. We will have some splendid times together, youand I, and you will be a good deal better off than wandering amongstrangers who don't care for you. "

The girl turned and looked into Mary Louise's face long and earnestly. Her eyes wandered to her neatly arranged hair, to the white collar ather throat, then down to her blue serge dress and her dainty shoes. Butmostly she looked straight into the eyes of her new friend and foundthere sincerity and evident good will. So she sighed deeply, cast aglance at her own bedraggled attire, and said:

"We ain't much alike, us two, but I guess we kin be friends. Othergirls has come here, to the rich people's houses, but they all stuck uptheir noses at me. You're the first that's ever give me a word. "

"All girls are not alike, you know, " responded Mary Louise cheerfully. "So now, let's go to your house and see what damage has been done. "

CHAPTER IVGETTING ACQUAINTED

The two girls had been sitting on the edge of the bridge, but MaryLouise now rose and took Ingua's arm in her own, leading the reluctantchild gently toward the path. It wasn't far to the old cottage and whenthey reached the yard Ingua laughed again at the scene of disorder. 

"It's a'most a pity Gran'dad can't see it, " she chuckled. "He'd be socrazy he'd hev them claws o' his'n 'round my throat in a jiffy. "

Mary Louise drew back, startled. 

"Did he ever do that?" she asked. 

"Only once; but that time near ended me. It were a long time ago, an'he was sorry, I guess, 'cause he bought me a new dress nex' day--an'new shoes! I ain't had any since, " she added disconsolately, "so theother day I asked him wasn't it about time he choked me ag'in. "

"What did he say to that?"

"Jes' growled at me. Gran'dad's got a awful temper when he's good an'riled, but usual' he's still as a mouse. Don't say a word to me ferdays together, sometimes. Once I saw him--"

She suddenly checked herself and cast an uneasy, sidelong glance at hercompanion. Mary Louise was rolling the washtub back to the stoop. 

"The only thing that will bother us, Ingua, " she said, "is thosedishes. Let us try to count the broken ones. Do you know how many therewere?"

"Sure I do, " answered the girl, removing the battered dishpan from theheap of crockery. "Two plates, two cups-'n'-saucers, a oatmeal dish, abread plate an' the pork platter. Gee! what a smash. One cup's whole--an' the oatmeal dish. The rest is gone-up. "

"I'm going to dig a hole and bury the broken pieces, " said Mary Louise. "Have you a spade?"

"There's an ol' shovel. But it won't do no good to bury of 'em. Gran'dad he counts ev'ry piece ev'ry day. He counts ev'ry thing, fromthe grains of salt to the chickens. Say, once I tried to play a trickon him. I'd got so hungry fer meat I jes' couldn't stand it, so one dayI killed a chick'n, thinkin' he wouldn't miss it. My--my! Wha' d'yes'pose? Say, ye never told me yer name yit. "

"I am Mary Louise Burrows. "

"Highflyin' name, ain't it? Well, I killed thet chick'n, an' cut it upan' fried it, an' et jes' a leg an' a wing, an' hid the rest under mybed in the peak up there, where Ol' Swallertail never goes. All thefeathers an' the head I buried, an' I cleaned up the hatchet an' thefry-in'-pan so's there wasn't a smitch of anything left to prove I'dmurdered one o' them chicks. I was feelin' kinder chirky when Gran'dadcome home, 'cause I thought he'd never find out. But what did the ol'vill'n do but begin to sniff aroun'; an' he sniffed an' he sniffed tillhe says: 'Ingua, what chick'n did ye kill, an' why did ye kill it?'

"'Yer crazy, ' says I. 'What're ye talkin' 'bout?'

"Then he gives me one sour look an' marches out to count the chick'ns, an' when he comes back he says: 'It's the brown pullet with white onthe wings. It were worth forty cents, an' forty cents'll buy ten poundso' oatmeal. Where's the chick'n, girl?' 'Et up, ' says I. 'Yer lyin', 'says he. 'Go git it! Hustle!'

"Well, I saw his claws beginnin' to work an' it scared me stiff. So Igoes to my room an' brings down the chick'n, an' he eyes it quiet-likefer a long time an' then eats some fer his supper. The rest he locks upin the cupboard that he allus carries the key to. Say, Mary Louise, Inever got another taste o' that chick'n as long as it lasted! Ol'Swallertail et it all himself, an' took a week to do it. "

During this recital the broom and mop and scrubbing-brush had beenpicked up and restored to their proper places. Then the two girls gotout the old shovel and buried the broken dishes in a far corner of theyard, among high weeds. Mary Louise tried to get the dents out of theold dishpan, but succeeded only indifferently. It was so batteredthrough long use, however, that Ingua thought the "jams" would not benoticed. 

"Next, " said Mary Louise, "we must replace the broken pieces. I supposethey sell dishes at the village store, do they not?"

"That's where these come from--long ago, " replied Ingua; "but dishescost money. "

"I've a little money in my purse; enough for that, I'm sure. Will yougo to town with me?"

Ingua stared at her as if bewildered. The proposition was wholly beyondher understanding. But she replied to her new friend's question, sayingslowly:

"No; I won't go. Ol' Swallertail'd skin me alive if he caught me in thevillage. "

"Then I'll go alone; and I'll soon be back, though I must run over tomy own house first, to get my purse and my hat. Let me have one of thecups for a sample, Ingua. "

She left the child sitting on the plank runway and looking rathersolemn and thoughtful. Mary Louise was somewhat fearful that she mightrun away in her absence, so she hurried home and from there walked intothe village, a tramp easily accomplished in ten minutes. 

The store was the biggest building in town, but not very big at that. It was "clapboarded" and two stories in height, the upper floor beingused by Sol Jerrems, the storekeeper, as a residence, except for twolittle front rooms which he rented, one to Miss Huckins, the dressmakerand milliner, who slept and ate in her shop, and the other to Mr. Cragg. A high platform had been built in front of the store, for theconvenience of farmer customers in muddy weather, and there were stepsat either end of the platform for the use of pedestrians. 

When Mary Louise entered the store, which was cluttered with all sortsof goods, not arranged in very orderly manner, there were severalfarmers present. But old Sol had his eye on her in an instant andshuffled forward to wait upon her. 

"I want some crockery, please, " she said. 

He looked at the sample cup and led her to a corner of the room where ajumble of dishes crowded a single shelf. 

"I take it you're one o' them new folks at the Kenton Place, " heremarked. 

"Yes, " said she. 

"Thought ther' was plenty o' dishes in that place, " continued Mr. Jerrems, in a friendly tone. "But p'r'aps ye don't want the black folkst' eat off'n the same things ye do yerselves. "

Mary Louise ignored this speech and selected the dishes she wanted. Shehad measured the broken platter and found another of the same size. OldSol wouldn't sell a saucer without a cup, explaining that the twoalways went together: "the cup to hold the stuff an' the saucer todrink it out'n. " Without argument, however, the girl purchased what shewanted. It was heavy, cheap ware of the commonest kind, but she darednot substitute anything better for it. 

Then she went to the grocery counter and after considering what Inguamight safely hide and eat in secret she bought a tin of cooked cornedbeef, another of chipped beef, one of deviled ham and three tins ofsardines. Also she bought a basket to carry her purchases in andalthough old Sol constantly sought to "pump" her concerning her pastlife, present history and future prospects, she managed to evadesuccessfully his thirst for information. No doubt the fellow was agreat gossip, as old Eben had declared, but Mary Louise knew betterthan to cater to this dangerous talent. 

The proprietor accompanied her to the door and she drew back, hesitating, as she observed an old man in a bottle-blue swallowtailcoat pace in deliberate, dignified manner along the opposite side ofthe street. 

"Who is that?" she asked, as an excuse for not going out until Ingua'sgrandfather had passed from sight. 

"That? Why, that's Ol' Swallertail, otherwise Hezekiah Cragg, one o'our most interestin' citizens, " replied Sol, glad of the chance totalk. 

"Does he own Cragg's Crossing?" asked Mary Louise. 

"Mercy, no! He owned a lot of it once, though, but that were afore mytime. Sold it out an' squandered the money, I guess, for he lives likea rat in a hole. Mebbe, though, he's got some hid away; that's whatsome o' the folks here whispers--folks that's likely to know. But, ifthat's a fact, he's got a streak o' miser in him, for he don't spendmore'n the law allows. "

"He may have lost the money in speculations, " suggested the girl. 

"Say, ye've hit the nail square on the head!" he exclaimed admiringly. "Them's my own opinions to a T. I've told the boys so a hunderd times, but they can't git it. Wasn't Ol' Swal-lertail hand-in-glove wi' thatslick Mister Joselyn, who they say has run away an' left his pore wifein the lurch? That's how you got a chance to rent the Kenton house. Joselyn were slick as butter, an' high-strung. Wouldn't hobnob with anyo' us but Ol' Swallertail, an' that's why I think Cragg was investin'money with him. Joselyn he came down here three year ago, havin'married Annabel Kenton in the winter, an' the way he swelled aroun'were a caution to snakes. But the pore devil run his rope an' lit out. Where he skipped to, I dunno. Nobuddy seems to know, not even his wife. But they say she didn't hev enough money left to count, an' by the glumlooks o' Ol' Swallertail I'm guessin' he got nipped too. "

"How long ago was that?" asked Mary Louise. 

"Some time 'bout last Christmas, they say. Anyhow, that's when his wifemissed him an' set up a hunt that didn't do no good. She came down herewith red eyes an' tramped 'round in the deep snow askin' questions. But, sakes, Ned Joselyn wouldn't 'a' come to an out-o'-the-way placelike this; we didn't never suit his style, ye see; so poor Ann Kenton--whose misfortun' made her Mrs. Ned Joselyn--cried an' wailed fer a dayer two an' then crep' back to the city like a whipped dog. Funny howwomen'll care fer a wuthless, ne'er-do-well chap that happens to begood-lookin', ain't it?"

Mary Louise nodded rather absently. However distorted the story mightbe, it was curious what had become of Mr. Joselyn. But her thoughtsreverted to another theme and she asked:

"Hasn't Mr. Cragg a granddaughter?"

"Oh, ye've seen little Ingua Scammel, hev ye? Or mebbe just heard tellof her. She's the cussedest little coal o' fire in seven counties!Keeps Ol' Swallertail guessin' all the time, they say, jes' like hermom, Nan Cragg, did afore her. Gosh, what a woman her mom were! Shedidn't stay 'round here much, but whenever she run out o' cash an'didn't hev a square meal comin' to her, she camped on Ol' Swallertailan' made him board her. Las' time she come she left her young-un--that's Ingua, ye know--an' the kid's been here ever since; sort of athorn in the side of ol' Hezekiah, we folks think, though he don'tnever complain. She ain't more'n twelve or thirteen year old, thetIngua, but she keeps house fer her gran'dad--what they is to keep, which ain't much. I won't let the kid 'round my store, nohow, 'causeshe swipes ev'rything, from dried apples to peanuts, thet she kin layher hands on. "

"Perhaps she is hungry, " said Mary Louise, defending her new friend. 

"Like enough. But I ain't feedin' starvin' kids, 'Tain't my business. If Ol' Swallertail don't feed her enough, thet's _his_ lookout. I'vewarned him if she sets foot in this store I'll charge him ten cents, jes' fer safety, so he keeps her out. He's slick, Ol' Swallertail is, an' silent-like an' secret in all he does an' says; but he's got to gitup earlier in the mornin' to git the best o' Sol Jerrems, he er hiskid, either one. "

As Mr. Cragg had now vanished from sight up the street, Mary Louiseventured out and after a brisk walk deposited her basket on the stoopof the Cragg cottage, where Ingua still sat, swinging her feetpensively, as if she had not stirred since Mary Louise had left her. 

CHAPTER VMARY LOUISE BECOMES A PEACEMAKER

"Here are the dishes, exactly like the broken ones, " reported MaryLouise in a jubilant tone as she set down her heavy basket. "Let us goin and wash them, Ingua, and put them away where they belong. "

The child followed her into the house. All her former pent-up energyseemed to have evaporated. She moved in a dull sort of way thatbetokened grim resignation. 

"I've be'n plannin' fer months to make a run fer it, " she remarked asshe washed the new dishes and Mary Louise wiped them dry, "an' justwhen I'd mustered up courage to do the trick, along comes _you_ an'queered the whole game. "

"You'll thank me for that, some day, Ingua. Aren't you glad, even now, that you have a home and shelter?"

"I ain't tickled to death about it. Home!" with a scornful glancearound the room, barren of all comforts. "A graveyard's a more cheerfulplace, to my notion. "

"We must try to make it pleasanter, dear. I'm going to get acquaintedwith Mr. Cragg and coax him to brighten things up some, and buy yousome new clothes, and take better care of you. "

Ingua fell back on a stool, fairly choking twixt amazement andderision. 

"You! Coax Ol' Swallertail? Make him spend money on _me!_ Say, if yewasn't a stranger here, Mary Louise, I'd jes' laugh; but bein' as howyer a poor innercent, I'll only say ther' ain't no power on earth kincoax Gran'dad to do anything better than to scowl an' box my ears. Youdon't know him, but _I_ do. "

"Meantime, " said Mary Louise, refusing to argue the point, "here aresome little things for you to hide away, and to eat whenever youplease, " and she took from the basket the canned goods she had boughtand set them in an enticing row upon the table. 

Ingua stared at the groceries and then stared at Mary Louise. Her wanface flushed and then grew hard. 

"Ye bought them fer _me?_" she asked. 

"Yes; so you won't have to steal eggs to satisfy your natural hunger. "

"Well, ye kin take the truck away ag'in. An' you'd better go with it, "said the girl indignantly. "We may be poor, but we ain't no beggars, an' we don't take charity from nobody. "

"But your grandfather--"

"We'll pay our own bills an' buy our own fodder. The Craggs is jus' asgood as yer folks, an' I'm a Cragg to the backbone, " she cried, hereyes glinting angrily. "If we want to starve, it's none o' yerbusiness, ner nobody else's, " and springing up she seized the tins oneby one and sent them flying through the window, as she had sent thedishpan and dishes earlier in the morning. "Now, then, foller yercharity an' make yerself scarce!" and she stamped her foot defiantly atMary Louise, who was dumb with astonishment. 

It was hard to understand this queer girl. She had made no objection toreplacing the broken dishes, yet a present of food aroused her toviolent anger. Her temper was positively something terrible in so smalla person and remembering her story of how Old Swallowtail had clenchedhis talon-like fingers and twisted Ingua's arm till she screamed withpain, Mary Louise could well believe the statement that the child was"a Cragg to the backbone. "

But Mary Louise, although only a few years older than Ingua, had had agood deal more experience and was, moreover, a born diplomat. Astonished though she was, she quickly comprehended the peculiar prideexhibited in a refusal to accept food from a stranger and knew she mustsoothe the girl's outraged spirit of independence if they were toremain friends. 

"I guess I'll have to beg your pardon, Ingua, " she said quietly. "I wasgrieved that you are so often hungry, while I have so much more than Ineed, and the money which I spent was all my own, to do what I likedwith. If I were in your place, and you in mine, and we were good chums, as I know we're going to be, I'd be glad to have you help me in anylittle way you could. True friends, Ingua, share and share alike anddon't let any foolish pride come between them. "

She spoke earnestly, with a ring of sincerity in her voice thatimpressed the other girl. Ingua's anger had melted as quickly as it hadroused and with sudden impulsiveness she seized Mary Louise's hands inher own and began to cry. 

"I'm as wicked as they make 'em!" she wailed. "I know I am! But I can'thelp it, Mary Louise; it's borned in me. I want to be friends with ye, but I won't take your charity if I starve. Not now, anyhow. Here; I'llgo git the stuff an' put it back in yer basket, an' then ye kin lug ithome an' do what ye please with it. "

They picked up the cans together, Ingua growing more calm and cheerfuleach moment. She even laughed at Mary Louise's disappointed expressionand said:

"I don't always hev tantrums. This is my bad day; but the devils'llwork out o' me by termorrer and I'll be sweet as sugar. I'm sorry; butit's the Cragg blood that sets me crazy, at times. "

"Won't you run over and see me?" asked Mary Louise, preparing to gohome. 

"When?"

"This afternoon. "

Ingua shook her head. 

"I dastn't, " she said. "I gotta hold myself in, the rest o' the day, so's I won't fight with Ol' Swallertail when he comes home. Anyhow, Iain't fit t' show up aroun' yer swell place. That black coon o' yers'dturn me out, if he saw me comin', thinkin' I was a tramp. "

Mary Louise had a bright idea. 

"I'm going to have tea to-morrow afternoon in that summer-house acrossthe creek, " said she. "I will be all alone and if you will come overand join me we'll have a nice visit together. Will you, Ingua?"

"I guess so, " was the careless answer. "When ye're ready, jes' wave yerhan'ker'cher an if the devils ain't squeezin' my gizzard, like they isto-day, I'll be there in a jiffy. "

CHAPTER VIAFTERNOON TEA

Mary Louise, who possessed a strong sense of humor, that evening atdinner told Gran'pa Jim of her encounter with old Mr. Cragg'sgranddaughter and related their interview in so whimsical a manner thatColonel Hathaway laughed aloud more than once. But he also lookedserious, at times, and when the recital was ended he gravely consideredthe situation and said:

"I believe, my dear, you have discovered a mine of human interest herethat will keep you occupied all summer. It was most fortunate for thepoor child that you interpreted her intent to run away from home andfoiled it so cleverly. From the little girl's report, that grim anddignified grandsire of hers has another and less admirable side to hischaracter and, unless she grossly exaggerates, has a temper so violentthat he may do her a mischief some day. "

"I'm afraid of that, too, " declared Mary Louise, "especially as thechild is so provoking. Yet I'm sure Ingua has a sweeter side to hernature, if it can be developed, and perhaps old Cragg has, too. Do youthink, Gran'pa Jim, it would be advisable for me to plead with him totreat his orphaned grandchild more considerately?"

"Not at present, my dear. I'll make some inquiries concerning Cragg andwhen we know more about him we can better judge how best to help Ingua. Are you sure that is her name?"

"Yes; isn't it an odd name?"

"Somewhere, " said the Colonel, musingly, "I have heard it before, butjust now I cannot recollect where. It seems to me, however, that it wasa man's name. Do you think the child's mother is dead?"

"I gathered from what Ingua and the storekeeper said that she hassimply disappeared. "

"An erratic sort of creature, from the vague reports you have heard, "commented Gran'pa Jim. "But, whatever her antecedents may have been, there is no reason why Ingua may not be rescued from her dreadfulenvironments and be made to become a quite proper young lady, if not amodel one. But that can only result from changing the existingcharacter of her environment, rather than taking her out of them. "

"That will be a big task, Gran'pa Jim, and it may prove beyond me, butI'll do the best I can. "

He smiled. 

"These little attempts to help our fellows, " said the Colonel, "notonly afford us pleasure but render us stronger and braver in facing ourown tribulations, which none, however securely placed, seem able toevade. "

Mary Louise gave him a quick, sympathetic glance. He had surely beenbrave and strong during his own period of tribulation and the girl feltshe could rely on his aid in whatever sensible philanthropy she mightundertake. She was glad, indeed, to have discovered poor Ingua, for shewas too active and of too nervous a temperament to be content simply to"rest" all summer. Rest was good for Gran'pa Jim, just now, but restpure and simple, with no compensating interest, would soon drive MaryLouise frantic. 

She conferred with Aunt Polly the next day and told the faithful blackservant something of her plans. So, when the old cook lugged a hugebasket to the pavilion for her in the afternoon, and set a small tablewith snowy linen and bright silver, with an alcohol arrangement formaking tea, she said with an air of mystery:

"Don' yo' go open dat bastik, Ma'y 'Weeze, till de time comes fereatin'. I jes' wants to s'prise yo'--yo' an' dat li'l' pooah girl whatgits hungry so much. "

So, when Aunt Polly had gone back to the house, Mary Louise arrangedher table and then stood up and waved a handkerchief to signal that allwas ready. 

Soon Ingua appeared in her doorway, hesitated a moment, and then randown the plank and advanced to the river bank instead of following thepath to the bridge. Almost opposite the pavilion Mary Louise noticedthat several stones protruded from the surface of the water. They werenot in a line, but placed irregularly. However, Ingua knew their lieperfectly and was able to step from one to another until she hadquickly passed the water. Then she ran up the dry bed of the river tothe bank, where steps led to the top. 

"Why, this is fine!" exclaimed Mary Louise, meeting her little friendat the steps. "I'd no idea one could cross the river in that way. "

"Oh, we've known 'bout that always, " was the reply. "Ned Joselyn usedto come to our house ever so many times by the river stones, to talkwith Ol' Swallertail, an' Gran'dad used to come over here, to this samesummer-house, an' talk with Joselyn. "

Mary Louise noticed that the old gingham dress had been washed, ironedand mended--all in a clumsy manner. Ingua's blond hair had also beentrained in awkward imitation of the way Mary Louise dressed her ownbrown locks. The child, observing her critical gaze, exclaimed with alaugh:

"Yes, I've slicked up some. No one'll see me but you, will they?" sheadded suspiciously. 

"No, indeed; we're to be all alone. How do you feel to-day, Ingua?"

"The devils are gone. Gran'dad didn't 'spicion anything las' night an'never said a word. He had one o' his dreamy fits an' writ letters tilllong after I went to bed. This mornin' he said as ol' Sol Jerrems hasraised the price o' flour two cents, so I'll hev to be keerful; butthat was all. No rumpus ner anything. "

"That's nice, " said Mary Louise, leading her, arm in arm, to thepavilion. "Aren't you glad you didn't run away?"

Ingua did not reply. Her eyes, big and round, were taking in everydetail of the table. Then they wandered to the big basket and MaryLouise smiled and said:

"The table is set, as you see, but I don't know what we're to have toeat. I asked Aunt Polly to put something in the basket, as I was goingto have company, and I'm certain there'll be _enough_ for two, whateverit's like. You see, this is a sort of surprise party, for we won't knowwhat we've got until we unpack the basket. "

Ingua nodded, much interested. 

"Ye said 'tea, '" she remarked, "an' I hain't tasted tea sence Marm leftus. But I s'pose somethin' goes with tea?"

"Always. Tea means a lunch, you know, and I'm very hungry because Ididn't eat much luncheon at noon. I hope you are hungry, too, Ingua, "she added, opening the basket and beginning to place its contents uponthe table. 

Ingua may have considered a reply unnecessary, for she made none. Hereyes were growing bigger every moment, for here were dainty sandwiches, cakes, jelly, a pot of marmalade, an assortment of cold meats, olives, Saratoga chips, and last of all a chicken pie still warm from theoven--one of those chicken pies that Aunt Polly could make as no oneelse ever made them. 

Even Mary Louise was surprised at the array of eatables. It was averitable feast. But without comment she made the tea, the water beingalready boiling, and seating Ingua opposite her at the table she servedthe child as liberally as she dared, bearing in mind her sensitivenessto "charity. "

But Ingua considered this a "party, " where as a guest she was entitledto all the good things, and she ate with a ravenous haste that waspitiful, trying the while not to show how hungry she was or how goodeverything tasted to her. 

Mary Louise didn't burden her with conversation during the meal, whichshe prolonged until the child positively could eat no more. Then shedrew their chairs to a place where they had the best view of the riverand woodland--with the old Cragg cottage marring the foreground--andsaid:

"Now we will have a good, long talk together. "

Ingua sighed deeply. 

"Don't we hev to do the dishes?" she asked. 

"No; Aunt Polly will come for them, by and by. All we have to do now isto enjoy your visit, which I hope you will repeat many times while I amliving here. "

Again the child sighed contentedly. 

"I wish ye was goin' ter stay always, " she remarked. "You folks is asight nicer'n that Joselyn tribe. They kep' us stirred up a good dealtill Ned--"

She stopped abruptly. 

"What were the Joselyns like?" inquired Mary Louise, in a casual tonethat was meant to mask her curiosity. 

"Well, that's hard to say, " answered Ingua thoughtfully. "Ol' Mis'Kenton were a good lady, an' ev'rybody liked her; but after she diedAnn Kenton come down here with a new husban', who were Ned Joselyn, an'then things began to happen. Ned was slick as a ban'box an' wouldn'thobnob with nobody, at first; but one day he got acquainted with Ol'Swallertail an' they made up somethin' wonderful. I guess other folksdidn't know 'bout their bein' so close, fer they was sly 'bout it, gen'rally. They'd meet in this summer-house, or they'd meet at ourhouse, crossin' the river on the steppin'-stones; but when Ned cameover to us Gran'dad allus sent me away an' said he'd skin me if Ilistened. But one day--No, I mus'n't tell that, " she said, checkingherself quickly, as a hard look came over her face. 

"Why not?" softly asked Mary Louise. 

"'Cause if I do I'll git killed, that's why, " answered the child, in atone of conviction. 

Something in her manner startled her hearer. 

"Who would kill you, Ingua?" she asked. 

"Gran'dad would. "

"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't do that, whatever you said. "

"Ye don't know Gran'dad, Mary Louise. He'd as lief kill me as look atme, if I give him cause to. "

"And he has asked you not to talk about Mr. Joselyn?"

"He tol' me ter keep my mouth shet or he'd murder me an' stick my bodyin a hole in the yard. An' he'd do it in a minute, ye kin bank onthat. "

"Then, " said Mary Louise, looking troubled, "I advise you not to sayanything he has forbidden you to. And, if anything ever happens to youwhile I'm here, I shall tell Gran'pa Jim to have Mr. Cragg arrested andput in prison. "

"Will ye? Will ye--honest?" asked the girl eagerly. "Say! that'll helpa lot. If I'm killed, I'll know I'll be revenged. "

So tragic was her manner that Mary Louise could have laughed outrighthad she not felt there was a really serious foundation for Ingua'sfears. There was something about the silent, cold-featured, mysteriousold man that led her to believe he might be guilty of any crime. But, after all, she reflected, she knew Mr. Cragg's character only fromIngua's description of it, and the child feared and hated him. 

"What does your grandfather do in his office all day?" she inquiredafter a long pause. 

"Writes letters an' reads the ones he gits, I guess. He don't let me goto his office. "

"Does he get many letters, then?"

"Heaps an' heaps of 'em. You ask Jim Bennett, who brings the mail bagover from the station ev'ry day. "

"Is Jim Bennett the postman?"

"His wife is. Jim lugs the mail 'tween the station an' his own house--that's the little white house next the church--where his wife, who'sdeef-'n'-dumb, runs the postoffice. I know Jim. He says there's 'boutsix letters a year for the farmers 'round here, an' 'bout one a weekfor Sol Jerrems--which is mostly bills--an' all the rest belongs to Ol'Swallertail. "

Mary Louise was puzzled. 

"Has he a business, then?" she asked. 

"Not as anybody knows of. "

"But why does he receive and answer so many letters?"

"Ye'll hev to guess. I've guessed, myself; but what's the use? If hewas as stingy of postage stamps as he is of pork an' oatmeal, hewouldn't send a letter a year. "

Mary Louise scented a mystery. Mysteries are delightful things todiscover, and fascinating to solve. But who would have thought thisquiet, retired village harbored a mystery?

"Does your grandfather ever go away from here? Does he travel much?"was her next question. 

"He ain't never been out of Cragg's Crossing sence I've knowed him. "

"Really, " said Mary Louise, "it is perplexing. "

Ingua nodded. She was feeling quite happy after her lunch and alreadycounted Mary Louise a warm friend. She had never had a friend before, yet here was a girl of nearly her own age who was interested in her andher history and sweetly sympathetic concerning her woes and worries. Tosuch a friend Ingua might confide anything, almost; and, while she wasnot fully aware of that fact just now, she said impulsively:

"Without tellin' what'd cost me my life, or lettin' anybody know what'sbecome of Ned Joselyn, I'll say they was money--lots o' money!--passedatween him an' ol' Swallertail. Sometimes the heap went to one, an'sometimes to the other; I seen it with my own eyes, when Gran'daddidn't know I was spyin'. But it didn't stick to either one, for Nedwas--" She stopped short, then continued more slowly: "When Neddis'peared, he'd spent all his own an' his wife's money, an' Ol'Swallertail ain't got enough t' live decent. "

"Are you sure of that, Ingua?"

"N-o, I ain't sure o' noth'n. But he don't spend no money, does he?"

"For stamps, " Mary Louise reminded her. 

Then the child grew silent and thoughtful again. Mary Louise, watchingthe changing expressions on her face, was convinced she knew more ofthe mystery than she dared confide to her new friend. There was no usetrying to force her confidence, however; in her childish way she wasboth shrewd and stubborn and any such attempt would be doomed tofailure. But after quite a period of silence Mary Louise asked gently:

"Did you like Mr. Joselyn, Ingua?"

"Sometimes. Only when--" Another self-interruption. She seemed often onthe point of saying something her better judgment warned her not to. "Sometimes Ned were mighty good to me. Sometimes he brought me candy, when things was goin' good with him. Once, Mary Louise, he kissed me, an' never wiped off his mouth afterwards! Y-e-s, I liked Ned, 'ceptin'when--" Another break. "I thought Ned was a pretty decent gink. "

"Where did you learn all your slang, dear?"

"What's slang?"

"Calling a man a 'gink, ' and words like that. ""Oh. Marm was full o' them words, " she replied with an air of pride. "They seem to suit things better than common words; don't you think so, Mary Louise?"

"Sometimes, " with an indulgent smile. "But ladies do not use them, Ingua, because they soil the purity of our language. "

"Well, " said the girl, "it'll be a long time, yit, afore I'm a lady, soI guess I'll talk like Marm did. Marm weren't a _real_ lady, to mymind, though she claimed she'd show anybody that said she wasn't. Realladies don't leave the'r kids in the clutches of Ol' Swallertails. "

Mary Louise did not think it wise to criticize the unknown Mrs. Scammelor to allow the woman's small daughter to do so. So she changed thesubject to more pleasant and interesting topics and the afternoon worespeedily away. 

Finally Ingua jumped up and said:

"I gotta go. If Gran'dad don't find supper ready there'll be anotherrumpus, an' I've been so happy to-day that I want to keep thingspleasant-like. "

"Won't you take the rest of these cakes with you?" urged Mary Louise. 

"Nope. I'll eat one more, on my way home, but I ain't one o' themtramps that wants food pushed at 'em in a bundle. We ain't got muchto home, but what we got's ours. "

A queer sort of mistaken pride, Mary Louise reflected, as she watchedthe girl spring lightly over the stepping-stones and run up theopposite bank. Evidently Ingua considered old Mr. Cragg her naturalguardian and would accept nothing from others that he failed to provideher with. Yet, to judge from her speech, she detested her grandfatherand regarded him with unspeakable aversion. 

CHAPTER VIIMARY LOUISE CALLS FOR HELP

All the queer hints dropped by the girl that afternoon, concerning therelations between Mr. Joselyn and Mr. Cragg, were confided by MaryLouise to her Gran'pa Jim that evening, while the old Colonel listenedwith grave interest. 

"I'm sure there is some mystery here, " declared Mary Louise, "and maybewe are going to discover some dreadful crime. "

"And, on the contrary, " returned Colonel Hathaway, "the two men mayhave been interested together in some business venture that resulteddisastrously and led Mr. Joselyn to run away to escape his wife'sreproaches. I consider that a more logical solution of your mystery, mydear. "

"In that case, " was her quick reply, "why is Mr. Cragg still writingscores of letters and getting bags full of replies? I don't believethat business deal--whatever it was--is ended, by any means. I thinkthat Ned Joselyn and Old Swallowtail are still carrying it on, one inhiding and the other here--and to be here is to be in hiding, also. Andit isn't an honest business, Gran'pa Jim, or they wouldn't be so secretabout it. "

The Colonel regarded his young granddaughter with surprise. 

"You seem quite logical in your reasoning, my dear, " he confessed, "and, should your conjectures prove correct, these men are using themails for illegal purposes, for which crime the law imposes a severepenalty. But consider, Mary Louise, is it our duty to trail criminalsand through our investigations bring them to punishment?"

Mary Louise took time to consider this question, as she had beenadvised to do. When she replied she had settled the matter firmly inher mind. 

"We are part of the Government, Gran'pa Jim, " she asserted. "If webelieve the Government is being wronged--which means the whole peopleis being wronged--I think we ought to uphold the law and bring thewrong-doer to justice. "

"Allowing that, " said her grandfather, "let us next consider whatgrounds you have for your belief that wrong is being committed. Arethey not confined to mere suspicions? Suspicions aroused by the chatterof a wild, ungoverned child? Often the amateur detective gets intotrouble through accusing the innocent. Law-abiding citizens should notattempt to uncover all the wrongs that exist, or to right them. TheUnited States Government employs special officers for such duties. "

Mary Louise was a bit nettled, failing to find at the moment anyargument to refute this statement. She was still convinced, however, that the mystery was of grave importance and she believed it would beintensely exciting to try to solve it. Gran'pa Jim was not acquaintedwith Ingua Scammel and had not listened to the girl's unconsciousexposures; so, naturally, he couldn't feel just as Mary Louise didabout this matter. She tried to read, as her grandfather, consideringthe conversation closed, was now doing. They sat together by thelamplight in the cozy sitting room. But her thoughts constantlyreverted to "Old Swallowtail" and to Ingua. At length she laid down herbook and said:

"Gran'pa, would you mind if I invited Josie O'Gorman to come here andmake me a visit?"

He gave her a curious look, which, soon melted into an amused smile. 

"Not at all, my dear. I like Josie. But I can see by your desire tointroduce a female detective on the scene that you cannot abandon yoursuspicion of Mr. Cragg. "

"I want to save Ingua, if I can, " replied the girl earnestly. "The poorlittle thing can't go on leading such a life without its ruining allher future, even if her grandfather's brutal threats are mere bluff. And Josie isn't a female detective, as yet; she is only training to beone, because her father has won fame in that profession. "

"Josie O'Gorman, " said the Colonel, meditatively, "is a wonderfullyclever girl. I believe she is better, even now, than a score of averagemale sleuths. Perhaps it will be a desirable thing for her to comehere, for she will be shrewd enough to decide, in a short time, whetheror not your suspicions are justified. In the latter case, you will berelieved of your worries. Will you abide by Josie's decision?"

"Will you, Gran'pa Jim?"

"I have considerable confidence in the girl's judgment. "

"Then I will write to her at once. "

She went to her desk and wrote the following note:

Dear Josie:We are at the dropping-off-place of the world, a stagnant littlevillage of a dozen houses set in an oasis that is surrounded by thedesert of civilization. And here, where life scarcely throbs, I'vescented a mystery that has powerfully impressed me and surely needsuntangling. It will be good practice for you, Josie, and so I want youto pack up at once and come to us on a good long visit. We'redelightfully situated and, even if the mystery dissolves into thin airunder the sunshine of your eyes, I know you will enjoy the change andour dreamy, happy existence in the wilds of nowhere. Gran'pa Jim wantsyou, too, as he thinks your coming will do me good, and his judgment isnever at fault. So drop me a postal to say when you will arrive and Iwill meet you at Chargrove Station with our car. Affectionately your friend, Mary Louise Burrows. 

Gran'pa Jim read this note and approved it, so next morning Mary Louisewalked to the village and deposited it in the postoffice, which locatedin the front room of Jim Bennett's little residence and wasdelightfully primitive. Jim was "jus' makin' up the mail bag, " he said, so her letter was in time to catch the daily train and would be inWashington, where Josie lived, in the quickest possible time. 

Josie O'Gorman was about the same age as Mary Louise and she was theonly child of John O'Gorman, famed as one of the cleverest detectivesin the Secret Service. Josie was supposed to have inherited some of herfather's talent; at least her fond parent imagined so. After carefullytraining the child almost from babyhood, O'Gorman had tested Josie'sability on just one occasion, when she had amply justified her father'sfaith in her. This test had thrown the girl into association with MaryLouise and with Colonel Hathaway, both of whom greatly admired hercleverness, her clear head and shrewd judgment. Mary Louise, especially, had developed a friendship for the embryo girl detectiveand had longed to know her more intimately. So she congratulatedherself on the happy thought of inviting Josie to Cragg's Crossing andwas delighted that the vague mystery surrounding the Cragg familyoffered an adequate excuse to urge the girl to come to her. Thereseemed nothing in the way of such a visit, for Officer O'Gorman, however pleased he might be at his daughter's success in her firstdetective case, declared Josie yet too young to enter active serviceand insisted that she acquire further age and experience before hewould allow her to enter her chosen profession in earnest. "Oneswallow, " he said, "doesn't make a summer, and the next bird you flymight prove a buzzard, my dear. Take your time, let your wits mature, and you'll be the better for it in the end. "

So Mary Louise waited impatiently for Josie's reply, meantime seeing asmuch of Ingua as she could and trying to cement the growing friendshipbetween them. Ingua responded eagerly to her advances and as old Mr. Cragg was away from home the greater part of the day there was muchcrossing of the stepping-stones by both girls and more than one"afternoon tea" in the pavilion. 

"Do you know, " said Ingua one day, in confidential mood, "I haven't hadthe devils since that time I started to run away and you stopped me?P'r'aps it's because I'm not as hungry as I used to be; but, anyhow, I'm glad I stayed. Gran'dad's been good, too, 'though he's got the'wakes' ag'in. "

"What are the 'wakes'?" asked Mary Louise. 

"Can't sleep nights. Goes t' bed on time, ye know, but gits up ag'inan' dresses himself an' walks. "

"In the house?"

"No, walks out o' doors. Sometimes he'll come in at jes' daylight;sometimes not till break-fas' is ready. "

"And doesn't that make him cross, Ingua?"

"Not a bit. It seems to chirk him up. Yist'day mornin', when he comein, he was feelin' so chipper he give me a cent, an' told me to buysomethin' useful. I guess that's the first cent he ever give me. I've_took_ money o' his'n, but he never _give_ me none afore. "

"Oh, Ingua! I hope you haven't stolen money?"

"Nope. Jes' took it. It ain't easy, 'cause he knows ev'ry cent he'sgot, an' it ain't often he leaves it where I kin git it. P'r'aps heknows it's me, but when I lie out of it he can't do noth'n' but growl--an' growlin' don't hurt any. "

Mary Louise was greatly distressed. This reckless disregard of propertyrights was of course the direct result of the child's environment, butmust be corrected. Ingua resented direct chiding and it was necessaryto point out to her the wickedness of stealing in the gentlest possiblemanner. 

"How much money have you taken from your grandfather?" she asked. 

"Oh, not much. A nickel, now an' then. He wouldn't stan' for losin' anymore, ye see. P'r'aps, altogether, I've swiped twenty-five cents. Butonce Ned Joselyn give me a dollar, an' Ol' Swallertail knowed it, an'made me give it to him to save for me. That were the last I ever saw o'that dollar, Mary Louise, so I ain't even with Gran'dad yet. "

"Do you think, " remarked Mary Louise, "there is ever any excuse forstealing?"

The girl stared at her, coloring slightly. 

"Do ye mean Gran'dad, er _me?_"

"I mean you. He didn't steal your dollar, dear; he merely took it soyou wouldn't spend it foolishly. "

"An' I merely took them nickels so's I could, spend 'em foolish. There's no fun in spendin' money, seems to me, unless you squander itreckless. That's what I done with them nickels. Candy an' chewin' gumtastes better when you know it's swiped. "

Mary Louise sighed. It was so hard to show little Ingua the error ofher ways. 

"As fer stealin'--out an' out _stealin', "_ continued the girl, with aproud toss of her head, "we Craggs ain't never took noth'n' that don'tbelong to us from nobody. What a Cragg takes from a Cragg is a Cragg'sbusiness, an' when we takes someth'n' from somebody else I'll ask ye totell me 'bout it. "

"Where are you going, Ingua?"

"Home. "

"You're not offended, I hope. "

"No, but I got work to do. I ain't done my breakfas' dishes yet. "

Mary Louise musingly watched the girl cross the river. On the oppositebank she turned to wave her hand and then ran into the cottage. Ingua'scode of honor was a peculiar one. Her pride in the Craggs seemedunaccountable, considering she and her grandfather were the only two ofthe family in existence--except that wandering mother of hers. 

But the recent conversation had uncovered a new phase of the mystery. Old Swallowtail was nervous over something; he could not sleep atnight, but roamed the roads while others with clear consciencesslumbered. There must be some powerful reason to account for the oldman's deserting his bed in this manner. What could it be?

When she walked over to the postoffice the girl found thelong-looked-for letter from Josie O'Gorman. It said:

Dear Mary Louise:How good you are! I positively need a change of scene and a rest, soI'm coming. To-morrow--by the train to Chargrove. The mystery you hintat will help me to rest. Dad doesn't want me to grow rusty and he hassome odd theories I'd like to work out. I haven't an idea what your"mystery" is, of course, but if it enables me to test any one of theO'Gorman theories (a theory is merely a stepping-stone to positiveinformation) I shall bless you forever. And that reminds me: I'm comingas a sewing girl, to help you fix over some summer gowns. You'reanxious to give me the work, because I need it, but as we're ratherchummy I'm half servant and half companion. (I hate sewing and make thelongest stitches you ever saw!) Moreover, I'm Josie Jessup. I'm neveran O'Gorman while I'm working on a mystery; it wouldn't do at all. Explain this to dear old Gran'pa Jim. 

Between the receipt of this script and to-morrow's train jot down inregular order everything you know concerning the aforesaid mystery. Make it brief; no speculations or suspicions, just facts. Then I won'twaste any time getting busy. 

Can you hear the rumble of my train? While you're reading this I'm onmy way!

Josie

"Good!" murmured Mary Louise, as she folded the letter. "I feel betteralready. Whatever the mystery of Old Swallowtail may be, Josie is sureto solve it. "

CHAPTER VIIITHE RED-HEADED GIRL

Sol Jerrems the storekeeper, coming in from the back room where he hadbeen drawing molasses for Farmer Higgins, found perched on top thesugar-barrel a chunky, red-haired, freckle-faced young girl whom he hadnever seen before. She seemed perfectly at home in his store and satwith her knees drawn up to her chin and her arms encircling her legs, eyeing soberly the two or three farmers who had come to the Crossing to"trade. "

"If the head o' thet bar'l busts in, you'll be a fine mess, " remarkedSol. 

The girl nodded but did not move from her position. Sol waited on hiscustomers, at times eyeing the strange girl curiously. When the farmershad gone with their purchases he approached the barrel and examined hisvisitor with speculative care. 

"Want anything?"

"Spool o' red cotton, number thirty. "

"Ain't got no red. "

"Green'll do. "

"Ain't got green. Only black an' white. "

"All right. "

"Want black or white?"

"No. "

Sol leaned against the counter. He wasn't busy; the girl seemed in nohurry; it was a good time to gossip and find out all about the strangecreature perched on his sugar-barrel. 

"Where'd ye come from?" he inquired. 

"City, " tossing her head toward the north. 

"What for?"

"To do sewing for the Hathaways folks. Mary Louise, you know. "

Sol pricked up his ears. The Hathaways were newcomers, about whomlittle was known. He wanted to know more, and here was a girl who couldgive him inside information. 

"Knowed the Hathaways in the city?"

"Kind o'. Sewed on Mary Louise's spring dresses. How long you beenhere?"

"Me? Why, I come here more'n twenty years ago. What does the Colonel doin the city?"

"Never asked him. Why do they call this place Cragg's Crossing?"

"I didn't name it. S'pose 'cause ol' Cragg used to own all the land, an' the roads crossed in the middle o' his farm. "

"What Cragg was that?"

"Eh? Why, father to Ol' Swallertail. Ever seen Ol' Swallertail?"

"No. "

"Wal, he's a sight fer sore eyes. First time anybody sees him theyeither laughs er chokes. The movin'-pictur' folks would go crazy overhim. Ever seen a movin'-pictur'?"

"Yes. "

"I did, too, when I was in the city las' year. Ol' Swallertail 'mindsme of 'em. Goes 'round dressed up like George Washington when hecrossed the Delaware. "

"Crazy?"

"That way, yes; other ways, not a bit. Pretty foxy gent, is Ol'Swallertail. "

"Why?"

Sol hesitated, reflecting. These questions were natural, in a stranger, but to explain old Hezekiah Cragg's character was not a particularlyeasy task. 

"In the fust place, he drives a hard bargain. Don't spend money, butallus has it. Keeps busy, but keeps his business to himself. "

"What is his business?"

"Didn't I say he kep' it to himself?"

"But he owns all the land around here. "

"Not now. He owns jest a half-acre, so far's anybody knows, with alittle ol' hut on it thet a respect'ble pig wouldn't live in. It's jes'acrost the river from the place where you're workin'. "

"Then what has become of his land?"

"It's stayed jes' where it allus was, I guess, " with a chuckle at hisown wit, "but Ol' Swaller-tail sold it, long ago. Ol' Nick Cragg, hisfather afore him, sold a lot of it, they say, and when he died he lefthalf his ready money an' all his land to Hezekiah--thet's Ol'Swallertail--an' the other half o' his money to his second son, Peter. "

"Where is Peter?" asked the girl quickly. 

"Went back to Ireland, years ago, and never's be'n heard of since. TheCraggs was Irish afore they got to be Americans, but it seems Petehankered fer th' Ol' Sod an' quit this country cold. "

"So the Craggs are Irish, eh?" mused the girl in a casual tone. Andthen she yawned, as if not greatly interested. But Sol was interested, so long as he was encouraged to talk. 

"I be'n told, by some o' the ol' settlers, " he went on, "thet ol' NickCragg were born in Ireland, was a policeman in New York--where he madehis first money--an' then come here an' bought land an' settled down. They ain't much difference 'tween a policeman an' a farmer, I guess. Ifthe story's true, it proves Ol' Swallertail has Irish blood in him yit, though fer that matter he's lived here long enough to be jes' American, like the rest of us. After he come inter the property he gradual-likesold off all the land, piece by piece, till he ain't got noth'n leftbut thet half-acre. Sold most of it afore I come here, an' I be'n atthe Crossing more'n twenty year. "

"If the land brought a fair price, Old Swallowtail ought to be rich, "remarked the girl. 

"Then he ain't what he orter be. Folks says he specilated, years ago, an' got stung. I know him pretty well--as well as anybody knows him--an' my opinion is he ain't got more'n enough to bury him decent. "

"Thought you said he drives a hard bargain?"

"Young woman, " said Sol earnestly, "the man don't live as kin makemoney specilatin'. The game's ag'in him, fust an' last, an' the morebrains he's got the harder he'll git stung. "

"But I thought you said Mr. Cragg has a business. "

"An' I said nobody knows what it is. When Ned Joselyn used to come herethe two was thick, an' Ned were a specilater through an' through. Somethinks it was him as got Cragg's wad, an' some says he lost it all, an'his wife's money, too. Anyhow, Joselyn lit out fer good an' when hewere gone Ann Kenton cried like a baby an' ol' Swallertail 's been dumbas a clam ever since. "

"What makes you think Cragg has a business?" persisted the girl. 

"He keeps an office, over the store here, an' he has a sign on the doorthet says 'Real Estate. ' But he ain't got no real estate, so that ain'twhy he shuts himself in the office day after day--an' even Sundays. He's got some other business. Ev'ry night, afore he goes home, he takesa bunch o' letters to Mrs. Bennett's postoffice, an' ev'ry mornin' hegoes there an' gits another bunch o' letters that's come to him in themail. If that don't mean some sort o' business, I don't know what'nthunder it _does_ mean. "

"Nor I, " said the girl, yawning again. "What about Ned Joselyn? Was henice?"

"Dressed like a dandy, looked like a fool, acted like the Emp'ror o'Rooshy an' pleased ev'rybody by runnin' away. That is, ev'rybody buthis wife an' Ol' Swallertail. "

"I see. Who else lives over your store?"

"I live there myself; me an' my fambly, in the back part. One o' thefront rooms I rents to Ol' Swallertail, an' he pays the rent reg'lar. The other front room Miss Huckins, the dressmaker, lives in. "

"Oh. I'm a dressmaker, too. Guess I'll go up and see her. Is she in?"

"When she's out, she leaves the key with me, an' the key ain't here. Say, girl, what's yer name?"

"Josie. "

"Josie what?"

"Jessup. Pa was a drayman. Ever hear of him?"

"No. But about the Hathaways; what has--"

"And you've got no red thread? Or green?"

"Only black an' white. Does the Colonel--"

"Can't use black or white, " said the girl, deliberately getting off thebarrel. "Guess I'll go up and ask Miss Huckins if she has any red. "

Out she walked, and old Sol rubbed his wrinkled forehead with abewildered look and muttered:

"Drat the gal! She's pumped me dry an' didn't tell me a word about themHathaway folks. She worse'n ol' Eben, the nigger help. Seems likenobody wants t' talk about the Hathaways, an' that means there'ssomethin' queer about 'em. But this red-headed sewin'-girl is a perfec'innercent an' I'll git her talkin' yet, if she stays here long. "

Meantime Josie mounted the stairs, which were boarded in at one end ofthe building, being built on the outside to economize space, andentered the narrow upper hallway. A chatter of children's voices in therear proclaimed that portion to be the quarters of the Jerrems family. Toward the front was a door on which, in dim letters, was the legend:"H. Cragg. Real Estate. "

Here the girl paused to listen. No sound came from the interior of H. Cragg's apartment. Farther along she found a similar door on which wasa card reading: "Miss Huckins, Dressmaker and Milliner. " Listeningagain, she heard the sound of a flatiron thumping an ironing board. 

She knocked, and the door was opened by a little middle-aged woman whoheld a hot flatiron in one hand. She was thin; she was bright-eyed; herhair was elaborately dressed with little ringlets across the foreheadand around the ears, so Josie at once decided it was a wig. 

Seeing a stranger before her, Miss Huckins looked her over carefullyfrom head to foot, while Josie smiled a vacuous, inconsequent smile andsaid in a perfunctory way:

"Good morning. "

"Come in, " returned Miss Huckins, with affable civility. "I don't thinkI know you. "

"I'm Josie Jessup, from the city. I'm in your line, Miss Huckins--in away, that is. I've come here to do some sewing for Mary Louise Burrows, who is the granddaughter of Colonel Hathaway, who has rented the KentonPlace. Nice weather, isn't it?"

Miss Huckins was not enthusiastic. Her face fell. She had encouragedsundry hopes that the rich little girl would employ her to do whateversewing she might need. So she resumed the pressing of a new dress thatwas spread over her ironing-board and said rather shortly:

"Anything I can do for you?"

"I want to use some red thread and the storekeeper doesn't keep it instock. Queer old man, that storekeeper, isn't he?"

"I don't call him queer. He's honest as the day is long and makes agood landlord. Country stores don't usually keep red thread, for it isseldom used. "

"He has been talking to me about old Mr. Cragg, who has an office nextdoor to you. I'm sure you'll admit that Mr. Cragg is queer, if thestorekeeper isn't. "

"A man like Mr. Cragg has the right to be queer, " snapped thedressmaker, who did not relish this criticism of the natives by aperfect stranger. "He is very quiet and respectable and makes a verysatisfactory neighbor. "

Josie, seated in a straight, wood-bottomed chair, seemed not at allchagrined by her reception. She watched the pressing for a timesilently. 

"That's a mighty pretty gown, " she presently remarked, in a tone ofadmiration. "I don't suppose I shall ever be able to make anything asnice as that. I--I'm not good at planning, you know, " with modestself-deprecation. "I only do plain sewing and mending. "

The stern features of Miss Huckins relaxed a bit. She glanced at thegirl, then at her work, and said more pleasantly than she had beforespoken:

"This dress is for Mary Donovan, who lives two miles north of here. She's to be married next Saturday--if they get the haying over with bythat time--and this is part of her trousseau. I've made her two otherdresses and trimmed two hats for her--a straw shape and a feltGainsboro. The Donovans are pretty well-to-do. "

Josie nodded with appreciation. 

"It's nice she can get such elegant things so near home, isn't it? Why, she couldn't do as well in the city--not _half_ as well!"

Miss Huckins held up the gown and gazed at it with unmistakable pride. "It's the best Henrietta, " said she, "and I'm to get six dollars forthe making. I wanted seven, at first, and Mary only wanted to pay five, so we split the difference. With all the other things, I didn't do sobadly on this trousseau. "

"You're in luck, " declared Josie, "and so is Mary Donovan. Doesn't Mr. Cragg do any business except real estate?"

"I think he must, " replied the dressmaker, hanging up the gown and thenseating herself opposite her visitor. "All the real estate businesshe's done in the last two years was to rent the Kenton Place to ColonelHathaway and make a sale of Higgins' cow pasture to Sam Marvin. Buthe's so quiet, all day, in the next room, that I can't figure out whathe's up to. No one goes near him, so I can't overhear any talk. Onetime, of course, Mr. Joselyn used to go there, and then they alwayswhispered, as if they were up to some deviltry. But after the quarrelJoselyn never came here again. "

"Oh, did they quarrel?" asked Josie, with languid interest. She knewher praise of the dress had won the dressmaker's heart and also she wasdelighted to find Miss Huckins a more confirmed and eager gossip thaneven Sol Jerrems. 

"I should say they did quarrel!" was the emphatic reply, although shesank her voice to a whisper and glanced warningly at the thinpartition. "At one time I thought there'd be murder done, for Joselynyelled: 'Take that away--take it away!' and Old Swallowtail--that's thename we call Mr. Cragg, you know--roared out: 'You deserve to die forthis cowardly act. ' Well, you'd better believe my hair stood on end fora minute, " Josie smiled as she thought of the wig standing on end, "butnothing happened. There was deep silence. Then the door opened and Mr. Joselyn walked out. I never interfere with other people's business, butattend strictly to my own, yet that day I was so flustered that Ipeeked through a crack of my door at Mr. Joselyn and he seemed cool asa cucumber. Then Mr. Cragg slammed the door of his room--which is zvery unusual thing for him to do--and that was all. "

"When did this happen?" asked Josie. 

"Last fall, just before Mrs. Joselyn and her husband went back to theircity home. Some time in the winter Mr. Joselyn ran away from her, theysay, but I guess old Cragg had nothing do with that. Around here, Joselyn wasn't liked. He put on too many airs of superiority toplease the country folks. Sol Jerrems thinks he made away with Mr. Cragg's money, in unwise speculations, but I don't believe Cragg hadany money to lose. He seems as poor as I am. "

"What do you suppose drew those two men together, Miss Huckins?"inquired the girl. 

"I can't say. I've tried to figure it out, but the truth is that oldCragg don't confide in anyone--not even in me, and we're closeneighbors. You couldn't find two men in all America more different thanJoselyn and Cragg, and yet they had dealings of some sort together andwere friendly, for a time. "

Josie sighed regretfully. 

"I like to hear about these mysterious things, " said she. "It's almostas good as reading a story. Only, in this case, we will never know howthe story ends. "

"Well, perhaps not, " admitted the dressmaker. "Joselyn is gone and noone'll ever get the truth out of Cragg. But--I'd like to know, myself, not only how the story ends but what it was all about. Just now all weknow is that there _was_ a story, of some sort or other, and perhaps isyet. "

A period of silence, while both mused. 

"I don't suppose you could find a bit of red thread?" said Josie. 

"No, I haven't used it for ages. Is it to mend with?"

"Yes. "

"If it's a red dress, use black thread. It won't show, if you'recareful; and it won't fade away and leave a white streak, like redsometimes does. "

"Thank you, Miss Huckins. " She rose to go. "I'd like to drop in again, sometime, for a little visit. "

"Come as often as you like, " was the cordial reply. 

"Cragg's Crossing people are rather interesting; they're so differentfrom city folks, " said Josie. 

"Yes, they really are, and I know most of them pretty well. Come inagain, Josie. "

"Thank you; I will. "

CHAPTER IXJOSIE INVESTIGATES

"Well, what luck?" asked Mary Louise, as she came into Josie's roomwhile her friend was dressing for dinner. 

"Not much, " was the reply. "I'm not at all sure, Mary Louise, that thischase will amount to anything. But it will afford me practice injudging human nature, if nothing else comes of it, so I'm not at allsorry you put me on the trail. When are we to see Ingua again?"

"To-morrow afternoon. She's coming to tea in the pavilion. "

"That's good. Let me see all of her you can. She's an original, thatchild, and I'm going to like her. Our natures are a good deal alike. "

"Oh, Josie!"

"That's a fact. We're both proud, resentful, reckless and affectionate. We hate our enemies and love our friends. We're rebellious, at times, and not afraid to defy the world. "

"I'm sure you are not like that, dear, " protested Mary Louise. 

"I am. Ingua and I are both children of nature. The only difference isthat I am older and have been taught diplomacy and self-control, whichshe still lacks. I mask my feelings, while Ingua frankly displays hers. That's why I am attracted to her. "

Mary Louise did not know how to combat this mood. She remained silentuntil Josie was dressed and the two went down to dinner. Their visitorwas no longer the type of a half ignorant, half shrewd sewing-girl, such as she had appeared to be while in the village. Her auburn hairwas now tastefully arranged and her attire modest and neat. She talkedentertainingly during dinner, enlivening her companions thereby, andafterward played a game of dominoes with the Colonel in theliving-room, permitting him to beat her at this, his favoritediversion. 

Both the old gentleman and his granddaughter enjoyed their eveningswith Josie O'Gorman, for she proved delightful company. In themornings, however, she would don her cheap gingham, rumple her hair, and pose throughout the day as Josie Jessup the sewing-girl. 

Ingua, at first shy of the visitor, soon developed a strong liking forJosie and would talk with her more freely than with Mary Louise. Josiewould skip across the stepping-stones and help Ingua wash the breakfastdishes and sweep the bare little rooms of the cottage and then togetherthey would feed the chickens, gather the eggs and attend to such dailytasks as Ingua was obliged to fulfill. With Josie's help this was soonaccomplished and then the child was free for the day and could runacross to join Mary Louise, while Josie sallied to the village tointerview the natives. 

When the girl detective had been at Cragg's Crossing for a week she wasa familiar figure to the villagers--every one of whom was anacquaintance--and had gleaned all the information it was possible tosecure from them, which was small in amount and unsatisfactory inquality. Two or three times she had passed Old Swallowtail on thestreet, but he had not seemed to notice her. Always the old man staredstraight ahead, walking stiffly and with a certain repellent dignitythat forbade his neighbors to address him. He seemed to see no one. Helived in a world known only to himself and neither demanded nor desiredassociation with his fellows. 

"An eccentric; bigoted, sullen and conceited, " reflected Josie, inconsidering his character. "Capable of any cruelty or crime, but toocautious to render himself liable to legal punishment. The chances arethat such a man would never do any great wrong, from cowardly motives. He might starve and threaten a child, indeed, but would refrain frominjuring one able to resent the act. Nevertheless, he quarreled withJoselyn--and Joselyn disappeared. There was some reason for thatquarrel; some reason for that disappearance; some reason why a man likeEdward Joselyn made Old Swallowtail his confidential friend. A businessconnection, perhaps. Before daring a conjecture I must discover whatbusiness Cragg is engaged in. "

She soon discovered that Ingua was as ignorant of her grandfather'sbusiness life as were all others. One day, as the two girls werecrossing the stepping-stones to reach the pavilion, after "doing" themorning housework, Josie remarked:

"In winter one could cross here on the ice. "

"Oh, no, " replied Ingua, "the water don't freeze. It runs too fast. Butsometimes it gits over the top o' the stones, an' then you has to stepkeerful to keep from fallin' in. "

"Did you ever try to cross at such a time?""Once I did, an' I was skeered, you kin bet. But I says to myself: 'IfOl' Swallertail kin make the crossin', I kin--dark or no dark--an' bycracky I tackled it brave as a lion. "

"You tried to cross in the dark, on a winter's night? What for, Ingua?"

Ingua, walking beside her up the bank, paused with a startledexpression and grew red. Her eyes, narrowed and shrewd, fixedthemselves suspiciously on Josie's face. But the other returned thelook with a bland smile that surely ought to disarm one moresophisticated than this simple child. 

"I mustn't talk 'bout that, " said Ingua in a low voice. "Jes' fergit asI said it, Josie. "

"Why?"

"Do ye want me choked, or killed?"

"Who would do that?"

"Gran'dad would, if I blabbed. "

"Shucks!"

"Ye don't know Gran'dad--not when he's got the temper on him. If ye'dseen what I seen, ye'd know that he'd keep his word--'to, kill me if Italk too much. "

Josie sat down on top the bank. 

"What did you see, Ingua?"

"Ye'll hev to guess it. "

"It looks that way, " said Josie calmly; "but you needn't be afraid of_me, _ Ingua. You and I could know a lot of things, together, and keep'em to ourselves. Don't you think I'm a good enough friend not to getyou choked or killed by telling any secrets you confided to me? And--look here, Ingua--this secret is worrying you a good deal. "

"Who says so?"

"I do. You'd feel a heap better if you told me about it, for then wecould talk it over together when we're alone. "

Ingua sat down beside her, gazing thoughtfully at the river. 

"You'd tell Mary Louise. "

"You know better than that. A secret's a secret, isn't it? I guess Ican keep my mouth shut when I want to, Ingua. "

Josie had a way of imitating Ingua's mode of speech when they weretogether. It rendered their intercourse more free and friendly. But thegirl did not reply at once. She sat dreamily reflecting upon theproposition and its possible consequences. Finally she said in ahesitating way:

"I wisht I knew what ter do. I sometimes think I orter tell somebodythat knows more'n I do, Josie, if I ever blab at all. "

"Try me, Ingua. I'm pretty smart, 'cause I've seen more of the bigworld than you have, and know what goes on in the big, busy cities, Where life is different from what it is in this little place. I'velived in more than one city, too, and that means a lot of experiencefor a girl of my age. I'm sure I could help you, dear. Perhaps, whenI've heard your story, I will tell you never to say anything about itto anyone else; and then, on the other hand, I might think differently. Anyhow, I'd never tell, myself, any secret of yours, whatever I mightthink, because I'd cut off my right hand rather than get you intotrouble. "

This dramatic speech was intended to appeal to the child's imaginationand win her full confidence. In a way, it succeeded. Ingua sidledcloser to Josie and finally said in a trembling whisper:

"Ye wouldn't git Gran'dad inter trouble either, would ye?"

"Do you like him, Ingua?"

"I hate him! But he's a Cragg, an' I'm a Cragg, an' the Craggs kinstand up an' spit at the world, if they wants to. "

"That's right, " agreed Josie, emphatically. "We've got to stick up forour own families and fight for our good name when it's necessary. Doyou think I'd let anybody get the best of a Jessup? Never in a thousandyears!"

Ingua nodded her head as if pleased. 

"That's the way I look at it, Josie. Ev'rybody's down on Ol'Swallertail, an' I'm down on him myself, fer that matter; but I'll dareanybody to say anything ag'in him when I'm aroun'. An' yet, Josie--an'yet--I ain't sure but he's--but he's a _murderer!"_

She had dropped her voice until she scarcely breathed the last wordsand her little body trembled through and through with tensenervousness. Josie took her hand. 

"Never mind, dear, " she said gently. "Perhaps he didn't kill NedJoselyn, after all. "

Ingua sprang up with a hoarse scream and glared at Josie in absoluteterror. 

"How'd ye know? How'd ye know it were Ned Joselyn?" she demanded, trembling more and more. 

Josie's reply was a smile. Josie's smile was essentially winning andsweet. It was reassuring, trustful, friendly. 

"This isn't a very big place, Ingua, " she quietly remarked. "I cancount the people of Cragg's Crossing on my fingers and toes, and theonly one who has ever disappeared is Ned Joselyn. Why, you've told meso yourself. Your grandfather and Joselyn were friends. Then theyquarreled. Afterward Joselyn disappeared. "

"Who said they quarreled?"

"Miss Huckins told me. It was in the office, next door to where shelives and works. "

"Oh, " with a sigh of relief. "But Ned Joselyn run away. Ev'rybody knowsthat. "

"Everybody but you, dear. Sit down. Why do you get so nervous? Really, Ingua, after you've told me the whole story you'll feel better. It'stoo big a secret for one small body to hold, isn't it? And just betweenourselves we will talk it all over--many times--and then it won't seemso dreadful to you. And, after all, you're not positive yourgrandfather killed Ned Joselyn. Perhaps he didn't. But you're afraid hedid, and that keeps you unstrung and unhappy. Who knows but I may beable to help you discover the truth? Sit down, Ingua, and let's talk itall over. "

CHAPTER XINGUA IS CONFIDENTIAL

Ingua slowly resumed her seat on the bank beside her friend. It washard to resist Josie's appeals. 

"The whole thing looks pretty black ag'in Gran'dad, " she said. "Is'pose ye can't understand what I mean till I tell ye the whole story, from the beginning 'cause ye didn't live here at the time. If ye livedhere, " she added, "I wouldn't tell ye anything, but by-'n'-by yer goin'away. An' ye've promised to keep yer mouth shut. "

"Unless you give me permission to speak. "

"I ain't likely to do that. I'm tellin' ye this, Josie, so's we kintalk it over, at times. It has got hold o' my mind, somethin' terrible. Once I was goin' to tell Mary Louise, but--she couldn't understand itlike you kin. She's--diff'rent. And if Gran'dad ever hears that Iblabbed I'm as good as dead, an' I know it!"

"He won't hear it from me, " promised Josie. 

"Well, Gran'dad was allus sly. I 'member Marm tellin' him to his facehe were cold as ice an' sly as sin. Mann had a way o' sayin' what shethought o' him, an' he'd jes' look at her steady an' say nuth'n back. She was allus tryin' to git money out o' him, Marm was, an' when hesaid he didn't hev no money she tol' him she knew he did. She ransackedthe whole house--an' even tore up the floor-boards--tryin' to findwhere he'd hid it. Her idee was that if he'd sold his land for a lot o'money, an' hadn't spent a cent, he must hev it yit. But I guess Marmdidn't find no money, an' so she lit out. The day she lit out she saidto him that he was too slick for her, but she could take care o'herself. All she wanted was for him to take care o' me. Gran'dad saidhe would; an' so he did. He didn't take any too much care o' me, an'I'd ruther he wouldn't. If I had more to eat, I wouldn't kick, butsince Mary Louise come here an' invited me to tea so often I hain'tbe'n hungry a bit. "

"Mary Louise likes company, " said Josie. "Go on, dear. "

"Well, after Ann Kenton got married, her new husban' come here, whichwas Ned Joselyn. I never took a fancy to Ann. She wasn't 'speciallyuppish, but she wasn't noth'n else, either. Ned made me laugh when Ifirst seen him. He had one spectacle in one eye, with a string to ketchit if it fell off. He had striped clothes an' shiny shoes an' he walkedas keerful as if he was afraid the groun' would git the bottoms o' themnice shoes dirty. He used to set in that summer-house an' smokecigarettes an' read books. One day he noticed Ol' Swallertail, an'looked so hard at him that his one-eyed spectacle fell off a dozentimes. 

"That night he sent a letter to Gran'dad an' Gran'dad read it an' toreit up an' told the man that brung it there was no answer. That's all Iknew till one night they come walkin' home together, chummy as a teamo' mules. When they come to the bridge they shook hands an' Ol'Swallertail come to the house with a grin on his face--the first an'last grin I ever seen him have. "

"Doesn't he ever laugh?" asked Josie. 

"If he does, he laughs when no one is lookin'. But after that day Iseen Ned Joselyn with Gran'dad a good deal. Sometimes he'd come to ourhouse an' wait fer Ol' Swallertail to come home, an' they'd send meaway an' tell me not to come back till I was called. That made memighty curious to see what they was up to, so one day I crep' up behindthe house an' peeked in the winder. They wasn't in the kitchen, so Iwent aroun' an' peeked through the winder o' Gran'dad's room, an' therethey both sot, an' Gran'dad was countin' out money on the table. Itmust 'a' be'n gold money, 'cause it was yaller an' bigger ner cents ernickels. Ned put it all in his pocket, an' writ somethin' on a paperthat Gran'dad put inter his big pocketbook. Then they both got up an' Imade a run fer it an' hid behind the barn. "

"When did that happen?" asked Josie. 

"The first summer Ann was married. That was three summers ago, countin'this one. I was only a kid, then, " said Ingua, as if realizing she wasnow two years older. 

"And after that?" said Josie. 

"Las' summer it was jes' the same. The two was thicker'n gumdrops, onlyNed didn't go to the office no more. He allus came to our house instid. One day, when he was waitin' fer Ol' Swallertail, he says to me:'Ingua, how'd ye like to be rollin' in money, an' Jive in a big city, an' hev yer own automobile to ride in, an' dress like a queen?'

"'I'd like it, ' says I. 

"'Well, ' says he, ' it's boun' to happen, if Ol' Swallertail sticks tome an' does what I say. He's got the capital, ' says Ned, 'an' I got thebrains; an' atween the two of us, Ingua, ' says Ned, 'we'll corral halfthe money there is in America. '

"'Will he stick?' says I. 

"'I dunno, ' says Ned. 'He's got queer ideas 'bout duty an' honesty thatain't pop'lar these days in business. But I'm gitt'n so now thet I kinlead him by the nose, an' I'll force him to waller in money afore I'vedone with him. '

"'I don't see how that'll make me rollin' in money, anyhow, ' I toldhim. 

"'The ol' man'll die, pretty soon, ' says Ned, 'an' then you'll git themoney I make for him. By the time yer growed up, if not afore, ' sayshe, 'you may be the riches' girl in the world. It all depends on how Ikin bend that ol' stick of a gran'dad o' yourn. '

"That was the day he gimme the dollar, an' Gran'dad come in in time tosee it, an' took it away from me. It didn't set me up any, that talk o'Ned's, 'cause I didn't believe in them brains he bragged on, or hisbein' able to lead Ol' Swallertail by the nose. Gran'dad begun gittin'kind o' harsh with Ned, afore the summer was over, which showed hewasn't bendin' much, and at the last--just afore Ned went away--the bigquarrel come off. It wasn't the quarrel Miss Huckins knows about, butit happened right here. They'd sent me away from the house, like theyalways did, and I were layin' in the clover in the back yard, whenthere was a crash an' a yell. I jumped up an' run to the door, an' thetable was tipped over an' a lot o' papers an' money scattered on thefloor, an' behind the table stood Ol' Swallertail, white an' still, an'Ned point'n' a gun at him. "

"What sort of a gun?" questioned Josie. 

"One o' them hip-pocket sort. Same as Jim Bennett the mailman carries. Only Jim's ain't never loaded, 'cause he's afraid of it. I ain't sureNed's was loaded, either, for when he seen me in the doorway he jes'slipped it in his pocket. 

"' Very well, ' says Gran'dad, 'I knows now what sort o' a man you are, Ned Joselyn. ' An' Ned he answers back: 'An' I know what sort o' a man_you_ are, ol' Cragg. Yer a hypercrit through an' through; ye preachsquareness while yer as crooked as a snake, an' as p'isonous an'deadly, an' ye'd ruin yer bes' friend jes' to git a copper cent thebest o' him. '

"Gran'dad leaned over an' set the table on its legs ag'in. An' then hesays slow an' cold: 'But I hain't offered to murder you; _not yet, _ NedJoselyn!'

"Ned looked at him an' kinder shivered. An' Gran'dad said: 'Pick upthem papers an' things, Ingua. '

"So I picked 'em up an' put 'em on the table an' they sent me awayag'in. I laid in the clover a whole hour, feelin' pretty nervous an'rocky, fer I didn't know what was goin' to happen. Noth'n' did happen, though, 'cept that Ned crossed the river on the steppin'-stones an'halfway over he turned an' laughed an' waved his hand at Gran'dad, whostood in the door an' watched him go. But Gran'dad didn't laugh. Hesays to me when I come in:

"'Ingua, if ever I'm found dead, you go to Dud Berkey, the constable, an' tell him to arrest Ned Joselyn for murder. D'ye understan'?'

"'I sure do, ' says I. 'Guess he'd 'a' shot ye, Gran'dad, if I hadn'tcome in just when I did. '

"'An' see here, ' he went on, 'unless I'm foun' dead, you keep mum 'boutwhat ye seen to-day. If ye blab a word to anyone, ye'll git me introuble, an' I'll crush ye as willin' as I'd swat a fly. Me an' Ned isfriends ag'in, ' says he, 'but I don't trust him. '

"'Does he trust you?' I asked him; an' at first he jus' looked at mean' scowled; but after a minute he answered: 'I don't know how wise theman is. P'r'aps he isn't a fool; but even wise men is foolishsometimes. '

"Well, Josie, that was all, just then. Ned went with his wife Ann tothe city, nex' day, an' things here went on as usual. Only, Gran'dadbegun to git wakeful nights, an' couldn't sleep. He'd git up an' dressan' go outdoors an' walk aroun' till mornin'. He didn't say noth'n' to_me_ about it, but I watched him, an' one mornin' when he come in Isays: 'Why don't ye git some medicine o' Doc Jenkins to make ye sleep?'Then he busts out an' grabs me by the throat an' near choked the lifeout or me. 

"'Ye spy--ye dirty little spy!' says he, 'ye keep yer eyes shut an' yermouth shut, or I'll skin-ye alive!' says he. 

"The way he looked at me, I was skeered stiff, an' I never said noth'n'more 'bout his sleepin' nights. I guess what made him mad was my sayin'he orter hev a doctor, 'cause doctors cost money an' Gran'dad's so poorhe hates t' spend money unnecessary. "

"Did he ever again try to choke you?"

"He tried once more, but I was too spry for him. It was a winter night, when it was cold in his room an' he come inter the kitchen, where therewas a fire, to write. I sot behind the stove, tryin' to keep warm, an'after a time I seen him look up an' glare at the bare wall a long time. By-'n'-by he says in a low voice: 'Fer the Cause!' an' starts writin'ag'in. 'What cause are ye talkin' about, Gran'dad?' says I. 

"I guess he'd fergot I was there, but now he gives a yell an' jumps upan' comes for me with his fingers twistin' and workin' like I'd seen'em afore. I didn't wait fer him to git near me, you kin bet; I made adive out the back door an' stood aroun' in the cold tryin' to keep warmwhile I give him time to cool off where the fire was. When he waswritin' ag'in I sneaked in an' he didn't notice me. When Marm was hereshe used to josh him about the 'Cause, ' an' once I heard her tell himshe guessed the Cause was hoardin' his money so's to starve his family. Marm wasn't afraid of him, but I am, so I never whisper the word'Cause' while he's around. "

Josie sat in silent reflection for a time. Then she asked softly:

"Does he still walk at night, Ingua?"

"Sometimes. Not so much as he once did, though. He seems to takestreaks o' bein' wakeful, " explained the girl. 

"Have you ever seen him come out, or go in?"

"Lots o' times. When it's moonlight I kin see him through my window, an' he can't see me 'cause my room is dark. "

"And does he carry anything with him?"

"Not a thing. He jes' goes out like he does daytimes, an' comes backthe same way. "

Josie nodded her tousled red head, as if the answers pleased her. 

"He's a very clever man, your grandfather, " she remarked. "He can foolnot only his neighbors, but his own family. But you've more to tell me, Ingua. "

"How d'ye know, Josie?"

"Because all this is just the beginning. It is something else that hasbeen worrying you, dear. "

CHAPTER XITHE FATE OF NED JOSELYN

The child stared dreamily at the rushing water for several minutes. Then she looked earnestly into Josie's face. Finally, with a sigh, shesaid:

"I may as well go on an' finish it, I s'pose. "

"To be sure, " said Josie. "You haven't told me anything very importantyet. "

"The important part's comin', " asserted Ingua, her tone graduallyassuming its former animation. "'Twas last winter on the Thursdaybetween Christmas an' New Year's. It was cold an' snowin' hard, an' itgits dark early them days. Gran'dad an' me was eat'n' supper bylamplight when there come a knock at the door. I jumped up an' openedit an' there stood Ned Joselyn, in a big heavy coat that was loadedwith snow, an' kid gloves on, an' his one-eyed spectacle on his face. He come in an' stood while I shut the door, an' Gran'dad glared at himlike he does when the devils gits him, and said: 'What--more?'

"'Sure thing, ' says Ned. 'Noth'n' lasts forever. '

"'That's true, ' says Gran'dad, holdin' himself in. Then he looks at me, an' back to Ned, an' says: 'I can't see ye here. Where ye stoppin'? Atthe Kenton house?'

"'Jes' fer to-night, ' says Ned. 'It's more private than a hotel. '

"'Go home, then, ' says Gran'dad. 'I'll come over, by-'n'-by. '

"Ned opened the door an' went out, sayin' noth'n' more. Gran'dadfinished his supper an' then sot by the stove an' smoked his pipe whileI washed the dishes. I wondered why he didn't go over an' see Ned, buthe sot there an' smoked till I went upstairs to bed. That was queer, for I never knew him to smoke more'n one pipe o' tobacco at a time, before, an' then mostly on Sundays. And I'd never seen his face so hardan' cruel-lookin' as it were that night, and his eyes, seemed like theywere made of glass. I didn't undress, fer I knowed there'd be troubleif he went over to Ned's house, and I made up my mind to keep watch o'things. 

"So I set still in my room in the attic, an' Gran'dad set still in theroom downstairs, an' it must 'a' be'n pretty late when I heard him getup an' go out. I slipped down right after him, meanin' to foller him, an' let myself out the back door so's he wouldn't see me. It hadstopped snowin' by then, but it was so cold that the air cut like aknife and the only jacket I had wasn't any too warm fer such weather. 

"When I got 'round the house Ol' Swallertail was standin' on the bank, lookin' at the river. I never knew nobody to try the steppin'-stones inwinter, an' I s'posed o' course Gran'dad would take the path to thebridge; but he went down the bank, wadin' through the snow, an' startedto cross over. The moon an' the snow made it light enough to see easy, after you'd be'n out a few minutes. I watched him cross over an' climbthe bank an' make for the house, an' then I run down to the rivermyself. 

"The water covered all the stones, but I knew where they were as wellas Gran'dad did. I didn't like my job a bit, but I knew if I waited togo roun' by the bridge that I'd be too late to see anything thathappened. So I screwed up courage an' started over. My legs ain't aslong as a grown-up's and at the third step I missed the stone an'soused one leg in the water up to my knee. Gee! that was a cold one. But I wouldn't give up, an' kep' on until jus' in the middle, where thewater were roarin' the worst, I slipped with both legs and went in tomy waist. That settled it for me. I thought I'd drown, for a minute, but I went crazy with fear an' the next thing I knew I was standin' onthe bank where I'd come from an' the cold wind was freezin' a sheet ofice on my legs an' body. 

"There wasn't no time to lose. Whatever was happenin' over to the bighouse didn't mean as much to me as death did, an' death was on my trackif I didn't get back home afore I froze stiff. I started to run. Itain't far--look there, Josie, ye could almost make it in three jumps--but I remember fallin' down half a dozen times in the snow, an' at thelast I crawled to the door on my hands an' knees an' had jus' strengthenough to rise up an' lift the latch. 

"Gran'dad's awful stingy about burnin' wood, but I threw the chunksinto the stove till the old thing roared like a furnace an' when I'dthawed out some I got off my shoes an' stockin's an' my wet dress an'put another skirt on. Then I lay in Gran'dad's chair afore the fire an'shivered an' cried like a baby whenever I thought o' that icy river. 

"I guess I must 'a' went to sleep, afterwards, fer when I woke up thefire was gett'n' low an' Ol' Swallertail opened the door on a suddenan' walked in. Josie, ye orter seen him! His legs was wet an' icy, too, so he must 'a' slipped on the stones himself; an' he was shakin' allover as if he'd got the ague. His face was a dirty white an' his eyesburnt like two coals. He threw on more wood, reckless-like, an' jerkedoff his shoes an' socks an' set down t'other side the stove. Neither ofus said noth'n' fer awhile an' then he looks at me sort o' curious an'asks:

"'Did ye git across, Ingua?'

"'No, ' says I. 'I near got drowned, tryin' it. '

"Then he set silent ag'in, lookin' at the fire. By-'n'-by says he:'Ingua, yer old enough to hev sense, an' I want ye to think keerful onwhat I'm goin' ter say. Folks aroun' here don't like you an' me verymuch, an' if they got a chance--or even thought they had a chance--they'd crush us under heel like they would scorpions. That's 'causewe're Craggs, for Craggs ain't never be'n poplar in this neighborhood, for some reason. Now lis'n. I've done with Ned Joselyn. It ain't nayfault as I've cast him off; it's his'n. He's got a bad heart an' he'srobbed me right an' left. I could fergive him fer that, because--well, ye don't need to know why I clung to the feller when I knew he was ascoundrel. But he robbed a cause dearer to my heart than myself, an'for that I couldn't fergive him. Nobody knows Ned were here to-night, Ingua, so if anybody asks ye questions ye didn't see him at all. Fixthat firm in yer mind. Ye don't know noth'n' 'bout Ned sence he wentaway las' October. Ye hain't seen him. Stick to that, girl, an' yer allright; but if ye blab--if ye ever tell a soul as Ned were here--I'llhev to kill yer myself, to stop yer mouth. Fix that in yer mind, too. '

"I was so skeered that I jes' looked at him. Then I says in a whisper:'What did ye do to Ned, Gran'dad?'

"He turned his eyes on me so fierce that I dropped my head. 

"'I didn't kill him, if that's what ye mean, ' says he. 'I orterstrangled him, but I didn't want to swing fer no common thief like NedJoselyn. Besides, he's--but that's none o' yer business. So Ithreatened him, an' that was jus' as good as killin'. He won't show upag'in here, never; an' he ain't likely to show up anywheres else thathe's known. P'raps he'll be hunted for, but he'll keep out a' the way. You an' I ain't got noth'n' to worry about, Ingua--unless you blab. '

"I didn't believe a word he said, Josie. They was jus' words, an' itwas nat'ral he'd lie about that night's work. When I went to bed it wasnear mornin', but Ol' Swallertail was still sett'n' by the fire. 

"Nex' day he went on jus' as usual, an' from then till now he's neverspoke to me of that night. In a couple o' weeks we heard as Ned Joselynhad run away. His wife come down here askin' fer him, but nobody'd seenhide ner hair of him. That's all, Josie; that's the whole story, an'I'm glad you know it now as well as I do. Wha' d'ye think? Did Ol'Swallertail kill Ned Joselyn?"

Josie woke from her meditation with a start. 

"I--I'm going to think it over, " she said evasively. "It's a queerstory, Ingua--mighty queer--and it's going to take a lot of thoughtbefore I make up my mind about it. "

CHAPTER XIITHEORIES ARE DANGEROUS

"What were you and Ingua talking about for so long?" asked Mary Louise, when she and Josie were alone. 

"She was telling me her story, " was the reply. 

"All of it?"

"Every bit of it, I think. "

"Oh, what was it all about?" questioned Mary Louise eagerly. 

"I've promised not to tell. "

"Not even me, Josie?"

"Not even you. Ingua insisted; and, really, dear, it's better youshould know nothing just at present. "

"Am I to be left out of all this thrilling mystery?" demanded MaryLouise with an aggrieved air. 

"There won't be a thrill in it, until the end, and perhaps not then. But you shall come in at the finish, if not before; I'll promise that. "

"Won't this enforced promise to Ingua tie your hands?" queried theother girl, thoughtfully. 

"No. I didn't promise not to act, but only to keep the child's secret. For Ingua's sake, as well as to satisfy your curiosity--and my own--I'mgoing to delve to the bottom of Ned Joselyn's disappearance. That willinvolve the attempt to discover all about Old Swallowtail, who is amystery all by himself. I shall call on you to help me, at times, MaryLouise, but you're not to be told what is weighing so heavily on poorIngua's mind. "

"Well, " said Mary Louise, "if I may help, that will serve to relieve mydisappointment to an extent. But I'm surprised at Ingua. I thought sheloved and trusted me. "

"So she does, " asserted Josie. "Since I've heard the story, I'm notsurprised at Ingua at all. If you knew all, my dear, you would realizewhy she believes that one confidant is enough. Indeed, I'm rathersurprised that Ingua ventured to confide in me. "

"Is it so serious, then?"

"If her fears are justified, " replied Josie gravely, "it is _very_serious. "

"But _are_ they justified?" urged Mary Louise. 

"Ingua is a child, and very sensitive to impressions. But she is ashrewd child and, living a lonely life, has had ample time to considerthe problems that confront her. Whether she is right or wrong in herconjectures, time will determine. But don't question me further, please, or you will embarrass me. To-morrow I want to go to the city, which is the county seat. Will you go with me? And can we get UncleEben to drive us over in the car?"

"I'll ask Gran'pa Jim. "

Colonel Hathaway was rather amused at the efforts of the two girls tofathom the mystery of Old Swallowtail, but he was willing to assist inany practical way. So Uncle Eben drove them to the county seat next dayand Josie spent several hours in the county clerk's office and paid avisit to the chief of police, who knew her father, John O'Gorman, byreputation. Mary Louise shopped leisurely while her friend was busywith her investigations and at last they started for home, where theyarrived in time for dinner. On the way, Mary Louise inquired if Josiehad secured any information of importance. 

"A little, " said the girl detective. "For one thing, old Hezekiah Craggpays taxes on just one bit of land besides that little homestead ofhis. It is a five-acre tract, but the assessment puts it at anastonishingly low valuation--scarcely ten per cent of the value of allsurrounding property. That strikes me as queer. I've got the plat of itand to-morrow we will look it up. "

They found it was not easy to locate that five acres, even with a map, when the two girls made the attempt the next forenoon. But finally, atthe end of a lonely lane about a mile and a half from the village, theycame upon a stony tract hemmed in by low hills, which seemed to fit thelocation described. The place was one mass of tumbled rocks. Littleherbiage of any sort grew there and its low assessment value was easilyexplained. The surrounding farms, all highly cultivated, backed up tothe little waste valley, which was fenced out--or rather in--by theowners of the fertile lands. One faintly trodden path led from the barsof the lane the girls were in toward Mr. Cragg's five acres of stones, but amid the jumble of rocks it would be difficult to walk at all. 

"This is an odd freak of nature, " remarked Josie, gazing at the wastewith a puzzled expression. "It is easy to understand why Mr. Cragghasn't sold this lot, as he did all his other land. No one would buyit. "

"Haven't the stones a value, for building or something?" asked MaryLouise. 

"Not in this location, so far from a railway. In my judgment the tractis absolutely worthless. I wonder that so economical a man as Mr. Craggpays taxes on it. "

They went no farther than the edge of the rock-strewn field, for therewas nothing more to see. Up the slope of the hill, on the far side fromwhere they stood, were jumbled masses of huge slabs and boulders thatmight be picturesque but were not especially interesting. The girlsturned and retraced their steps to the neglected lane and from thencereached the main road again. 

"I have now satisfied myself on two counts, " was Josie's comment. "First, that Mr. Cragg owns no property but this stone-yard and hislittle home, and second, that within the last forty years he has atdifferent times disposed of seventy thousand dollars worth of land lefthim by his father. The county records prove that. The last sale wasmade about four years ago, so he has consistently turned all his realestate into ready money. "

"What can he have done with so much money?" exclaimed Mary Louise. 

"Ah, that is part of the mystery, my dear. If he still has it, then theman is a miser. If he has lost it, he is a gambler, which is just aboutas bad. Either way, Hezekiah Cragg is not entitled to our admiration, to say the least. Let us admit that in a big city a man might loseseventy thousand dollars in business ventures without exciting adversecriticism except for a lack of judgment; but Old Swallowtail has neverleft Cragg's Crossing, according to all reports, and I'm sure there isno way for him to squander a fortune here. "

"I think he must be a miser, " said Mary Louise with conviction. "Inguaonce told me of seeing lots of money pass between him and Mr. Joselyn. And--tell me, Josie--what is all his voluminous correspondence about?"

"I'm going to investigate that presently, " replied her friend. "Itisn't quite in line yet but will come pretty soon. To-morrow I shallcall upon Old Swallowtail at his office. "

"Shall you, really? And may I go with, you, Josie?"

"Not this time. You'd spoil my excuse, you see, for you are going todischarge your sewing-girl, and your sewing-girl is going to apply toHezekiah Cragg for work. His granddaughter needs some sewing done, bythe looks of her wardrobe. "

"Oh. Very well. But you will tell me what happens?"

"Of course. "

"Once, " said Mary Louise, "I proposed going myself to Mr. Cragg, tointercede for Ingua, but the girl thought I would do more harm thangood. So I abandoned the idea. "

"I think that was wise. I don't expect to get much out of the manexcept an interview, with a chance to study him at close range. AlsoI'm anxious to see what that mysterious office looks like. "

Mary Louise regarded her friend admiringly. 

"You're very brave, Josie, " she said. 

"Pooh! There's no danger. One of the first things father taught meabout the detective business was that all men belong to one tribe, andthe criminal is inevitably a coward at heart. Old Swallowtail may beafraid of _me, _ before I'm through with this case, but whether heproves guilty or innocent I shall never fear him a particle. "

"Have you any theory, as yet, Josie?"

"No. Theories are dangerous things and never should be indulged inuntil backed by facts. "

"But do not theories often lead to facts? And how about those 'O'Gormantheories' you mentioned, which you were eager to test?"

"Those are mere theories of investigation--methods to be pursued incertain situations. I believe I shall be able to test some of them inthis case. My plan is to find out all I can about everyone andeverything, and then marshal my facts against the question involved. Ifthere is no answer, I've got to learn more. If I can't learn more, thenthe whole thing becomes mere guesswork--in other words, theory--morelikely to be wrong than right. "

Mary Louise seldom argued with Josie's decisions. When, the nextmorning, her friend started for the village to call upon OldSwallowtail, she pressed her hand and wished her good luck. Josiedeparted in her plain gingham dress, shoes run over at the heels, hairuntidy and uncovered by hat or hood--a general aspect of slovenlyservitude. 

Mr. Cragg was never an early riser. He breakfasted at eight o'clock andat half past eight stalked with stiff dignity to town and entered hisoffice without deigning to recognize any villagers he might meet. Josiewas aware of this habit. She timed her visit for half-past ten. 

Unnoticed she passed through the village street and crept up the stairsat the end of the store building. Before the door marked "H. Cragg, Real Estate" she paused to listen. No sound came from within, butfarther along the passage she heard the dull rumble of Miss Huckins'sewing machine. 

For once Josie hesitated, but realizing that hesitation meant weaknesson such an errand she boldly thrust out a hand and attempted to turnthe doorknob. 

CHAPTER XIIIBLUFF AND REBUFF

The door was locked. Immediately Josie pounded upon it with herknuckles and a voice demanded:

"Who is there?"

Instead of replying, Josie knocked again, and suddenly the door wasopened and Old Swallowtail stood before her. 

"I--I beg your pardon, " said she diffidently; "are you the real estateman?"

"Yes, " he replied, standing quietly in the doorway. 

"Then you're the man I want to see, " she asserted and took a stepforward. But he did not move an inch from his position and his eyeswere fixed steadfastly on her face. 

"I have nothing to sell, at present, " he remarked. 

"But I want to give you something to sell, " she retorted impatiently, summoning her wits to meet the occasion. "Let me in, please. Or do youtransact all your business in the hallway?"

Somewhat to her surprise he stepped back and held the door for her toenter. Josie promptly walked in and sat down near a round table, onecomprehensive glance fixing in her mind the entire contents of thesmall room. 

There was one window, dim and unwashed, facing the street. It had athick shade, now raised. Originally the room had been square, andrather crudely plastered and wallpapered, but a wooden partition hadafterward been erected to cut the room into two, so that the portionshe had entered was long and narrow. Its sole furniture consisted ofthe round table, quite bare, two or three wooden-bottomed chairs, andagainst one wall a rack filled with books. During the interview shenoted that these books were mostly directories of the inhabitants ofvarious prominent cities in the United States, and such a collectionastonished her and aroused her curiosity. 

Just at present, however, the partition proved the most interestingthing she observed, for beyond it must be another room which wasdoubtless the particular sanctum of Old Swallowtail and to which shescarcely expected to gain admittance. The door was closed. It was stoutand solid and was fitted with both an ordinary door-lock and a hasp andpadlock, the latter now hanging on a nail beside the door. 

This much Josie's sharp eyes saw in her first glance, but immediatelyher attention was demanded by Mr. Cragg, who took a seat opposite herand said in a quiet, well modulated voice: "Now, my girl, state yourbusiness. " She had planned to tell him how she had come to town to sewfor Mary Louise Burrows, how she had now finished her work but was socharmed with Cragg's Crossing that she did not care to leave it duringthe hot weather to return to the stuffy city. Therefore, she intendedto add, if he would let her make some new dresses for Ingua, she wouldwork for half her regular wages. Her dress as a sewing-girl would carryout this deception and the bait of small wages ought to interest theold man. But this clever plan had suddenly gone glimmering, for inorder to gain admittance to the office and secure an interview with OldSwallowtail she had inadvertently stated that she had some real estateto dispose of. So sudden a change of base required the girl to thinkquickly in order to formulate a new argument that would hold hisattention. 

To gain time she said, slowly:

"My name is Josie Jessup. I'm a sewing-girl by profession. "

"Yes, I know, " he replied. 

"I've been here ten days or so, working for Miss Burrows. "

"I have seen you here, " said Mr. Cragg. 

She wondered how he knew so much, as he had never seemed to favor herwith even a glance when by chance they met in the street. But perhapsIngua had told him. 

"I like Cragg's Crossing, " continued Josie, assuming a confidentialtone, "and I've made up my mind I'd like to live here. There ought tobe plenty of work sewing for the farmers' wives, outside of what MissHuckins does, and it don't cost much to live in a small town. In thecity I own a little house and lot left to me by my uncle on my mother'sside, and I've decided to trade it for some place here. Don't you know, sir, of someone who'd like to move to the city, and will be glad tomake the exchange?"

"I know of no such person, " he replied coldly. 

"But you will make inquiries?"

"It would be useless. I am very busy to-day, so if you will excuseme--"

He rose and bowed. 

Josie was disappointed. She decided to revert to her first proposition. 

"Doesn't your granddaughter need some sewing done, sir?" she asked, with a frank look from her innocent blue eyes. 

He stood still, silently studying her face. With one hand he rubbed hischin gently, as if in thought. Then he said:

"We cannot afford to hire our sewing done, but I thank you for theoffer. Good morning, Miss--Jessup. "

Walking to the door he held it open and bowed gravely as she walkedout. Next moment she heard the key click as it turned in the lock. 

Josie, feeling a sense of failure, slowly went down the stairs, enteredthe store and perched herself upon the sugar-barrel. Old Sol waswaiting on a farmer's wife and only gave the girl a glance. 

Josie reflected on her interview with Mr. Cragg while it was fresh inher mind. He was no crude, uneducated country bumpkin, despite his oddways and peculiar dress. Indeed, the man had astonished her by hiscourtesy, his correct method of speech, his perfect self-assurance. Hervisit was calculated to annoy him and to arouse his impatience. AfterIngua's report of him she expected he would become scornful orsarcastic or even exhibit violent anger; yet there had been nothingobjectionable in his manner or words. Still, he had dismissed her asabruptly as possible and was not eager to grasp an opportunity toexchange real estate. 

"That isn't his business at all, " she told herself. "It's merely ablind, although he actually did rent the Kenton Place to ColonelHathaway. .. I wonder what he does in that office all day. In the innerroom, of course. That is his real workshop. .. He's quite gentlemanly. Hehas a certain amount of breeding, which Ingua wholly lacks. .. . He mustrealize what a crude and uncultured little thing his granddaughter is. Then why hasn't he tried to train her differently?. .. Really, he quiteawed me with his stately, composed manner. No one would expect thatsort of man to be a murderer. But--there! haven't I been warned thatthe educated gentleman is the worst type of criminal, and the mostdifficult to detect?"

Sol's customer went away and the old man approached the barrel. 

"Well, " he said, "wanter buy anything to-day?"

"No, " said Josie pleasantly, "this is only a social call. I've justcome from Old Swallow-tail's office and thought a word with you wouldcheer me up. "

"You! You be'n to Ol' Swallertail's office! Sakes alive, gal, Iwouldn't dare do that myself. "

"Why not?"

"He goes crazy when he gits mad. "

"Are you sure of that?"

"Ev'rybody here knows it, from the three-year-olds up. What did ye goto him for?"

"A little matter of business. "

"An' he slammed the door in yer face?"

"No, indeed. "

"That's funny, " said old Sol, rubbing his forehead in a perplexed way. 

"He was very decent to me, " continued Josie. "Acted like a gentleman. Talked as if he'd been to school, you know. "

"School? Well, I should say he had!" exclaimed the storekeeper. "Ol'Swallertail's the most eddicated man in these 'ere parts, I guess. Ol'Nick Cragg, his daddy, wanted for him to be a preacher--or a priest, most likely--an' when he was a boy his ol' man paid good money to hevhim eddicated at a the--at a theo--at a collidge. But Hezekiah wa'n'tover-religious, an' 'lowed he didn't hev no call to preach; so that'sall the good the eddication ever done him. "

"_You've_ never felt the need of an education, have you?" asked thegirl, artlessly. 

"Me? Well, I ain't sayin' as I got no eddication, though I don't classmyself in book-l'arnin' with Ol' Swallertail. Three winters I went toschool, an' once I helped whip the school-teacher. Tain't ev'ry one hasgot _that_ record. But eddication means more'n books; it means keepin'yer eyes open an' gitt'n' onter the tricks o' yer trade. Ev'ry time Igit swindled, I've l'arned somethin', an' if I'd started this store inNew York instid o' Cragg's Crossin', they might be runnin' me ferpresident by this time. "

"But what could Cragg's Crossing have done without you?" inquiredJosie. "It seems to me you're needed here. "

"Well, that's worth thinkin' on, " admitted the storekeeper. "And as forOld Swallowtail, he may have learned some tricks of his trade too. ButI don't know what his trade is. "

"Nobody knows that. I don't b'lieve that business o' his'n is a tradeat all; I'll bet it's a steal, whatever its other name happens to be. "

"But he doesn't prosper. "

"No; he ain't got much t' show fer all these years. Folks used to thinkhe'd got money saved from the sale of his land, till Ned Joselyn comehere an' dallied with Ol' Swallertail's savin's an' then took to thewoods. It's gener'ly b'lieved that what Cragg had once Ned's got now;but it don't matter much. Cragg hain't got long ter live an' his feeddon't cost him an' his little gal much more'n it costs to feed my cat. "

There was no further information to be gleaned from Sol Jerrems, soJosie walked home. 

CHAPTER XIVMIDNIGHT VIGILS

"Well, how is our girl detective progressing in her discovery of crimeand criminals?" asked Colonel Hathaway that evening, as they sat in theliving-room after dinner. 

"Don't call me a girl detective, please, " pleaded Josie O'Gorman. "I'monly an apprentice at the trade, Colonel, and I have never realizedmore than I do at this moment the fact that I've considerable to learnbefore I may claim membership with the profession. "

"Then you're finding your present trail a difficult one to follow?"

"I believe my stupidity is making it difficult, " admitted Josie, with asigh. "Father would scold me soundly if he knew how foolishly I behavedto-day. There was every opportunity of my forcing a clew by callingunexpectedly on Mr. Cragg at his office, but he defeated my purpose soeasily that now I'm wondering if he suspects who I am, and why I'mhere. He couldn't have been more cautious. "

"He could scarcely suspect that, " said the Colonel, musingly. "But I'venoticed that these simple country people are chary of confiding instrangers. "

"Ah, if Mr. Cragg were only that--a simple, unlettered countryman, as Ithought him--I should know how to win his confidence. But, do you know, sir, he is well educated and intelligent. Once he studied for thepriesthood or ministry, attending a theological college. "

"Indeed!"

"My informant, the village authority--who is Sol Jerrems thestorekeeper--says he objected to becoming a priest at the last becausehe had no leaning that way. My own opinion is that he feared hisungovernable temper would lead to his undoing. I am positive that hishysterical fury, when aroused, has gotten him into trouble many times, even in this patient community. "

"That's it, " said Mary Louise with conviction; "his temper has oftenmade him cruel to poor Ingua, and perhaps his temper caused unfortunateNed Joselyn to disappear. "

"Have you discovered anything more than you have told me?" she asked. 

"Not a thing, " replied Mary Louise. "I'm waiting for _you_ to makediscoveries, Josie. "

"A puzzle that is readily solved, " remarked the Colonel, picking up hisbook, "is of little interest. The obstacles you are meeting, Josie, incline me to believe you girls have unearthed a real mystery. It isnot a mystery of the moment, however, so take your time to fathom it. The summer is young yet. "

Josie went to her room early, saying she was tired, but as soon as shewas alone and free she slipped on a jacket and stealthily left thehouse. Down the driveway she crept like a shadow, out through thegates, over the bridge, and then she turned down the pathway leading toOld Swallowtail's cottage. 

"The stepping-stones are a nearer route, " she reflected, "but I don'tcare to tackle them in the dark. "

The cottage contained but three rooms. The larger one downstairs was acombination kitchen and dining room. A small wing, built upon one side, was used by Mr. Cragg for his private apartment, but its only outletwas through the main room. At the back was a lean-to shed, in which wasbuilt a narrow flight of stairs leading to a little room in the attic, where Ingua slept. Josie knew the plan of the house perfectly, havingoften visited Ingua during the day when her grandfather was absent andhelped her sweep and make the beds and wash the dishes. 

To-night Josie moved noiselessly around the building, satisfied herselfthat Ingua was asleep and that Mr. Cragg was still awake, and thenstrove to peer through the shuttered window to discover what the oldman was doing. 

She found this impossible. Although the weather was warm the window wastightly shut and a thick curtain was drawn across it. 

Josie slipped over to the river bank and in the shadow of a tree satherself down to watch and wait with such patience as she could muster. It was half past nine o'clock, and Ingua had told her that when hergrandfather was wakeful, and indulged in his long walks, he usuallyleft the house between ten o'clock and midnight--seldom earlier andnever later. He would go to bed, the child said, and finding he couldnot sleep, would again dress and go out into the night, only to returnat early morning. 

Josie doubted that he ever undressed on such occasions, knowing, as heno doubt did, perfectly well what his program for the night would be. She had decided that the nocturnal excursions were not due to insomniabut were carefully planned to avoid possible observation. When all thecountryside was wrapped in slumber the old gentleman stole from hiscottage and went--where? Doubtless to some secret place that had animportant bearing on his life and occupation. It would be worth while, Josie believed, to discover the object of these midnight excursions. Ingua claimed that her grandfather's periods of wakeful walking wereirregular; sometimes he would be gone night after night, and then forweeks he would remain at home and sleep like other folks. 

So Josie was not surprised when old Swallowtail's light wasextinguished shortly after ten o'clock and from then until midnight hehad not left the house. Evidently this was not one of his "wakeful"periods. The girl's eyes, during this time, never left the door of thecottage. The path to the bridge passed her scarcely five yards distant. Therefore, as Hezekiah Cragg had not appeared, he was doubtlesssleeping the sleep of the just--or the unjust, for all sorts andconditions of men indulge in sleep. 

Josie waited until nearly one o'clock. Then she went home, let herselfin by a side door to which she had taken the key, and in a few minuteswas as sound asleep as Old Swallowtail ought to be. 

For three nights in succession the girl maintained this vigil, with noresult whatever. It was wearisome work and she began to tire of it. Onthe fourth day, as she was "visiting" with Ingua, she asked:

"Has your grandfather had any sleepless nights lately?"

"I don't know, " was the reply. "But he ain't walked any, as hesometimes does, for I hain't heard him go out. "

"Do you always hear him?"

"P'r'aps not always, but most times. "

"And does he walk more than one night?" inquired Josie. 

"When he takes them fits, they lasts for a week or more, " assertedIngua. "Then, for a long time, he sleeps quiet. "

"Will you let me know, the next time he takes to walking?"

"Why?" asked the child, suspiciously. 

"It's a curious habit, " Josie explained, "and I'd like to know what hedoes during all those hours of the night. "

"He walks, " declared Ingua; "and, if he does anything else, it's hisown business. "

"I've wondered, " said Josie impressively, "if he doesn't visit somehidden grave during those midnight rambles. "

Ingua shuddered. 

"I wish ye wouldn't talk like that, " she whispered. "It gives me thecreeps. "

"Wouldn't you like to know the truth of all this mystery, Ingua?"

"Sometimes I would, an' sometimes I wouldn't. If the truth leaked out, mebbe Gran'dad would git inter a lot o' trouble. I don't want that, Josie. I ain't no cause to love Gran'dad, but he's a Cragg an' I'm aCragg, an' no Cragg ever went back on the fambly. "

It seemed unwise to urge the child further to betray her grandfather, yet for Ingua's sake, if for no other reason, Josie was determined touncover the hidden life of Hezekiah Cragg. 

The following night she watched again at her station by the river bank, and again the midnight hour struck and the old man had not left hiscottage. His light was extinguished at eleven o'clock. At twelve-thirtyJosie rose from the shadow of the tree and slowly walked to the bridge. There, instead of going home, she turned in the direction of the town. 

In the sky were a few stars and the slim crescent of a new moon, affording sufficient light to guide her steps. Crickets chirped andfrogs in the marshes sang their hoarse love songs, but otherwise anintense stillness pervaded the countryside. You must not consider JosieO'Gorman an especially brave girl, for she had no thought of fear insuch solitary wanderings. Although but seventeen years of age, she hadbeen reared from early childhood in an atmosphere of intrigue andmystery, for her detective father had been accustomed to argue hiscases and their perplexities with his only child and for hours at atime he would instruct her in all the details of his profession. It wasO'Gorman's ambition that his daughter might become a highly proficientfemale detective. 

"There are so many cases where a woman is better than a man, " he wouldsay, "and there is such a lack of competent women in this important andfascinating profession, that I am promoting the interests of both mydaughter and the public safety by training Josie to become a gooddetective. "

And the girl, having been her father's confidant since she was able towalk and talk, became saturated with detective lore and only neededpractical experience and more mature judgment fully to justifyO'Gorman's ambition for her. 

However, the shrewd old secret service officer well knew that the girlwas not yet ready to be launched into active service. The experienceshe needed was only to be gained in just such odd private cases as theone on which she was now engaged, so he was glad to let her come toCragg's Crossing, and Josie was glad to be there. She was only contentwhen "working, " and however the Cragg mystery developed or resulted, her efforts to solve it were sure to sharpen her wits and add to herpractical knowledge of her future craft. 

When she reached the town she found it absolutely deserted. Not a lightshone anywhere; no watchman was employed; the denizens of Cragg'sCrossing were all in bed and reveling in dreamland. 

Josie sat on the bottom stair of the flight leading to the store andremoved her shoes. Upstairs the family of Sol Jerrems and Miss Huckinsthe dressmaker were sleeping and must not be disturbed. The girl madeno sound as she mounted the stairs and softly stole to the door of H. Cragg's real estate office. Here it was dark as could be, but Josiedrew some skeleton keys from her pocket and slid them, one by one, intothe lock. The fourth key fitted; she opened the door silently andhaving entered the room drew the door shut behind her. 

The thick shade was drawn over the window. It was as black here as itwas in the hallway. Josie flashed a small searchlight on the door ofthe connecting room and saw that it was not only locked in the ordinarymanner but that the padlock she had noted on her former visit to theroom was now inserted in the hasp and formed an additional securityagainst intrusion. 

While her electric spotlight played upon this padlock she bent over andexamined it swiftly but with care. 

"A Yale lock, " she muttered. "It can't be picked, but it will delay mefor only a few minutes. "

Then from her pocket she brought out a small steel hack-saw, and as shecould not work the saw and hold the flashlight at the same time shewent to the window and removed the heavy shade. The light that now cameinto the room was dim, but sufficient for her purpose. Returning to thedoor of the mysterious inner room, the contents of which she haddetermined to investigate, she seized the padlock firmly with one handwhile with the other she began to saw through the steel loop thatpassed through the hasp. 

The sound made by the saw was so slight that it did not worry her, butanother sound, of an entirely different character and coming from thehallway, caused her to pause and glance over her shoulder. 

Slowly the outer door opened and a form appeared in the doorway. It wasa mere shadow, at first, but it deliberately advanced to the table, struck a match and lighted a small kerosene lamp. 

She was face to face with Old Swallowtail. 

CHAPTER XV"OLD SWALLOWTAIL"

Josie was so astonished that she still bent over the lock, motionless, saw in hand. In the instant she made a mental review of her proceedingsand satisfied herself that she had been guilty of no professionalblunder. The inopportune appearance of Mr. Cragg must be attributed toa blind chance--to fate. So the first wave of humiliation that sweptover her receded as she gathered her wits to combat this unexpectedsituation. 

Mr. Cragg stood by the table looking at her. He was very calm. Thediscovery of the girl had not aroused that violence of temper for whichthe old man was noted. Josie straightened up, slipped the saw in herpocket and faced him unflinchingly. 

"Won't you sit down?" he said, pointing to a chair beside her. "I wouldlike to know why you have undertaken to rob me. "

Josie sat down, her heart bounding with joy. If he mistook her for athief all was not lost and she would not have to write "finis" as yetto this important case. But she made no answer to his remark; shemerely stared at him in a dull, emotionless way that was cleverlyassumed. 

"I suppose, " he continued, "you have been told I am rich--a miser--andperhaps you imagine I keep my wealth in that little room, because Ihave taken pains to secure it from intrusion by prying meddlers. Isuspected you, my girl, when you came to see me the other day. Yourerrand was palpably invented. You wanted to get the lay of the room, inpreparation for this night's work. But who told you I was worthy ofbeing robbed? Was it Ingua?"

"No, " came a surly reply. "She won't mention you to me. "

"Very good. But the neighbors--the busy-bodies around here? Perhaps oldSol Jerrems has gossiped of my supposed hoard. Is it not so?"

Josie dropped her eyes as if confused but remained silent. The old manseemed to regard her as a curiosity, for his cold gray eyes examinedher person with the same expression with which he might have regarded acaged monkey. 

"Then you do not wish to confess?"

"What's the use?" she demanded with a burst of impatience. "Haven't youcaught me at the job?"

He continued to eye her, reflectively. 

"The cities breed felons, " he remarked. "It is a pity so young a girlshould have chosen so dangerous and disastrous a career. It isinevitably disastrous. How did it happen that Colonel Hathaway allowedyou to impose on him?"

"I do sewing, " she said doggedly. 

"In order to gain entrance to a household, I suppose. But Hathaway iswealthy. Why did you not undertake to rob him, instead of me?"

"One at a time, " said Josie, with a short laugh. 

"Oh, I understand. You expected to make the small pick-ups and thenland the grand coup. The answer is simple, after all. But, " he added, his voice growing stern and menacing for the first time, "I do notintend to be robbed, my girl. Fleece Hathaway if you can; it is none ofmy business; but you must not pry into my personal affairs or rifle mypoor rooms. Do you understand me?"

"I--I think so, sir. "

"Avoid me, hereafter. Keep out of my path. The least interference fromyou, in any way, will oblige me to turn you over to the police. "

"You'll let me go, now?"

He glanced at her, frowning. 

"I am too much occupied to prosecute you--unless you annoy me further. Perhaps you have this night learned a lesson that will induce you toabandon such desperate, criminal ventures. "

Josie stood up. 

"I wish I knew how you managed to catch me, " she said, with a sigh. 

"You were watching my house to-night, waiting until I was safely in bedbefore coming here. I happened to leave my room for a little air, andgoing out my back door I passed around the house and stood at thecorner, in deep shade. My eyes were good enough to distinguish a formlurking under the tree by the river bank. I went in, put out my light, and returned to my former position. You watched the house and I watchedyou. You are not very clever, for all your slyness. You will never beclever enough to become a good thief--meaning a successful thief. Aftera half hour I saw you rise and take the path to the village. I followedyou. Do you understand now? God has protected the just and humbled thewicked. "

That final sentence surprised the girl. Coming from his lips, itshocked her. In his former speech he had not denounced her crime, butonly her indiscretion and the folly of her attempt. Suddenly hereferred to God as his protector, asserting his personal uprightness aswarrant for Divine protection; and, singularly enough, his tone wassincere. 

Josie hesitated whether to go or not, for Old Swallowtail seemed in atalkative mood and she had already discovered a new angle to hischaracter. By way of diversion she began to cry. 

"I--I know I'm wicked, " she sobbed; "it's wrong to steal; I know it is. But I--I--need the money, and you've got lots of it; and--and--Ithought you must be just as wicked as I am!"

His expression changed to one of grim irony. 

"Yes, " said he, "by common report I am guilty of every sin in thecalendar. Do you know why?"

"No; of course I don't!" she answered, softening her sobs to hear moreclearly. 

"Years ago, when I was a young man, I stabbed a fellow-student in theneck--a dreadful wound--because he taunted me about my mode of dress. Iwas wearing the only clothes my eccentric father would provide me with. I am wearing the same style of costume yet, as penance for thatdastardly act--caused by an ungovernable temper with which I have beencursed from my birth. I would have entered the service of God had itnot been for that temper. I am unable to control it, except by avoidingundue contact with my fellow men. That is why. I am living here, arecluse, when I should be taking an active part in the world's work. "

He spoke musingly, as if to himself more than to the girl who hung oneach word with eager interest. No one had ever told her as much of OldSwallowtail as he was now telling her of himself. She wondered why hewas so confidential. Was it because she seemed dull and stupid? Becauseshe was a stranger who was likely to decamp instantly when he let hergo? Or was the retrospective mood due to the hour and the unwontedsituation? She waited, scarce breathing lest she lose a word. 

"The poor fellow whom I stabbed lived miserably for twenty yearsafterward, " he went on, "and I supported him and his family during thattime, for his life had been ruined by my act. Later in life and here atthe Crossing, people saw me kill a balky horse in a wild rage, and theyhave been afraid of me ever since. Even more recently I--"

He suddenly paused, remembering where he was and to whom he wasspeaking. The girl's face was perfectly blank when he shot a shrewdglance at it. Her look seemed to relieve his embarrassment. 

"However, " said he in a different tone, "I am not so black as I'mpainted. "

"I don't think you treat poor Ingua quite right, " remarked Josie. 

"Eh? Why not?"

"You neglect her; you don't give her enough to eat; she hasn't a dressfit for a ragamuffin to wear. And she's your granddaughter. "

He drew in a long breath, staring hard. 

"Has she been complaining?"

"Not to me, " said Josie; "but she doesn't need to. Haven't I eyes?Doesn't everyone say it's a shame to treat the poor child the way youdo? My personal opinion is that you're a poor excuse for agrandfather, " she added, with more spirit than she had yet exhibited. 

He sat silent a long time, looking at the lamp. His face was hard; hislong, slim fingers twitched as if longing to throttle someone; but hepositively ignored Josie's presence. She believed he was struggling tosubdue what Ingua called "the devils, " and would not have beensurprised had-he broken all bounds and tried to do her an injury. 

"Go!" he said at last, still without looking at her. "Go, and rememberthat I will not forgive twice. "

She thought it best to obey. Very softly she left the room, and as shepassed out he was still staring at the flame of the lamp andalternately clenching and unclenching his talon-like fingers. 

CHAPTER XVIINGUA'S NEW DRESS

"Well, " said Mary Louise, when Josie had related to her friend thestory next morning, "what do you think of Old Swallowtail now?"

"About the same as before. I'm gradually accumulating facts to accountfor the old man's strange actions, but I'm not ready to submit them forcriticism just yet. The plot is still a bit ragged and I want to mendthe holes before I spread it out before you. "

"Do you think he suspects who you are?"

"No; he thinks I'm a waif from the city with a penchant for burglary. He expects me to rob you, presently, and then run away. I'm so unlikelyto cross his path again that he talked with unusual frankness to me--or_at_ me, if you prefer to put it that way. All I gained last night wasthe knowledge that he's afraid of himself, that his temper cost him acareer in the world and obliged him to live in seclusion and that hehas a secret which he doesn't intend any red-headed girl to stumble onaccidentally. "

"And you think he was angry when you accused him of neglecting Ingua?"

"I'm sure he was. It made him more furious than my attempt to saw hispadlock. Come, let's run over and see Ingua now. I want to ask how hergrandfather treated her this morning. "

They walked through the grounds, crossed the river on thestepping-stones and found Ingua just finishing her morning's work. Thechild greeted them eagerly. 

"I'm glad you come, " she said, "for I was meanin' to run over to yourplace pretty soon. What d'ye think hes happened? Las' night, in themiddle o' the night--or p'r'aps nearer mornin'--Gran'dad begun to slamthings aroun'. The smashin' of tables an' chairs woke me up, but Ididn't dare go down to see what was the matter. He tumbled ev'rything'round in the kitchen an' then went inter his own room an' made the furfly there. I knew he were in one o' his tantrums an' that he'd be sorryif he broke things, but it wasn't no time to interfere. When the rumpusstopped I went to sleep ag'in, but I got up early an' had his breakfas'all ready when he come from his room. I'd picked up all the stuff he'dscattered an' mended a broken chair, an' things didn't look so bad. 

"Well, Ol' Swallertail jes' looked aroun' the room an' then at me an'sot down to eat. 'Ingua, ' he says pretty soon, ' you need a new dress. 'Say, girls, I near fell over backwards! 'Go down to Sol Jerrems, ' sayshe, 'an' pick out the goods, an' I'll pay for it. I'll stop in thismornin' an' tell Sol to let ye have it. An', ' says he, lookin' at meruther queer, 'ye might ask that redheaded sewin'-girl that's stay in'at the Hathaways' to make it up fer ye. I don't think she'll ask ye acent fer the work. '

"'Gran'dad, ' says I, 'would ye hev a Cragg accep' charity, even to themakin' of a dress?'

"' No, ' says he; 'the girl owes me somethin' an' I guess she'll be gladto square the account. '

"Then he goes away to town an' I've be'n nervous an' flustered eversince. I can't make it out, I can't. Do you owe him anything, Josie?"

"Yes, " said Josie with a laugh, "I believe I do. You shall have thedress, Ingua--all made up--and I'll go down with you and help pick outthe goods. "

"So will I!" exclaimed Mary Louise, highly delighted. 

"And we will have Miss Huckins cut and fit it, " continued Josie. "I'mnot much good at that thing, Ingua, so we will have a real dressmakerand I'll pay her and charge it up to what I owe your grandfather. "

The little girl seemed puzzled. 

"How'd ye happen to owe him anything, Josie?" she asked. 

"Didn't he tell you?"

"Not a word. "

"Then he expects it to remain a secret, and you mustn't urge me totell. I'm pretty good at keeping secrets, Ingua. Aren't you glad ofthat?"

They trooped away to town, presently, all in high spirits, andpurchased the dress and trimmings at the store. Old Sol was soastonished at this transaction that he assailed the three girls with athousand questions, to none of which did he receive a satisfactoryreply. 

"He didn't put no limit on the deal, " said the storekeeper. "He jus'said: 'Whatever the gal picks out, charge it to me an' I'll pay thebill. ' Looks like Ol' Swallertail hed gone plumb crazy, don't it?"

Then they went upstairs to Miss Huckins, who was likewise thrilled withexcitement at the startling event of Ingua's having a new dress. MaryLouise and Josie helped plan the dress, which was to be a simple andpractical affair, after all, and the dressmaker measured the childcarefully and promised her a fitting the very next day. 

"I don't quite understan', " remarked Ingua, as they walked home afterthis impressive ceremony, "why you don't make the dress yourself, Josie, an' save yer money. You're a dressmaker, ye say. "

"I'm a sewing-girl, " replied Josie calmly, "but I've promised MaryLouise to sew for no one but her while I'm here, and I'm too lazy tosew much, anyway. I'm having a sort of vacation, you know. "

"Josie is my friend, " explained Mary Louise, "and I won't let her sewat all, if I can help it. I want her to be just my companion and have anice visit before she goes back to the city. "

But when the two girls were alone Josie said to Mary Louise:

"Old Cragg isn't so stony-hearted, after all. Just my suggestion lastnight that Ingua was being neglected has resulted in the new dress. "

"He threw things, though, before he made up his mind to be generous, "observed Mary Louise. "But this proves that the old man isn't so verypoor. He must have a little money, Josie. "

Josie nodded her head absently. She was trying hard to understand Mr. Cragg's character, and so far it baffled her. He had frankly admittedhis ungovernable temper and had deplored it. Also he had refrained fromhaving Josie arrested for burglary because he was "too occupied toprosecute her. " Occupied? Occupied with what? Surely not the realestate business. She believed the true reason for her escape was thathe dreaded prominence. Old Swallowtail did not wish to become mixed upwith police courts any more than he could help. This very occurrencemade her doubt him more than ever. 

CHAPTER XVIIA CLEW AT LAST

That night Josie resumed her watch of Cragg's cottage. She did nottrust to the shadow of the tree to conceal her but hid herself underthe bank of the river, among the dry stones, allowing only her head toproject above the embankment and selecting a place where she could peerthrough some low bushes. 

She suspected that the excitement of the previous night might renderthe old man nervous and wakeful and send him out on one of his midnightprowls. This suspicion seemed justified when, at eleven-thirty, hislight went out and a few minutes later he turned the corner of thehouse and appeared in the path. 

He did not seem nervous, however. With hands clasped behind his backand head bowed, he leisurely paced the path to the bridge, withouthesitation crossed the river and proceeded along the road in adirection opposite to the village. 

Josie was following, keeping herself concealed with utmost care. Sheremembered that his eyes were sharp in penetrating shadows. 

He kept along the main country road for a time and then turned to theright and followed an intersecting road. Half a mile in this directionbrought him to a lane running between two farm tracts but which was solittle used that grass and weeds had nearly obliterated all traces ofwagon-wheels. 

By this time Josie's eyes were so accustomed to the dim moonlight thatshe could see distinctly some distance ahead of her. The sky was clear;there was just enough wind to rustle the leaves of the trees. Now andthen in some farmyard a cock would crow or a dog bark, but no othersounds broke the stillness of the night. 

The girl knew now where Old Swallowtail was bound. At the end of thislane lay his five acres of stones, and he was about to visit it. Thefact gave her a queer little thrill of the heart, for a dozen strangefancies crossed her mind in rapid succession. If he had really killedNed Joselyn, it was probable he had buried the man in this neglectedplace, amongst the rubble of stones. Josie had inspected every foot ofground on the Kenton Place and satisfied herself no grave had been dugthere. Indeed, at the time of Joselyn's "disappearance" the ground hadbeen frozen so hard that the old man could not have dug a grave. Perhaps after a night or two he had dragged the corpse here and coveredit with stones. It would be a safe hiding-place. 

And now regret for his act drove the murderer here night after night towatch over the secret grave. 

Or, granting that the supposed crime had not been committed, might notMr. Cragg have discovered some sort of mineral wealth in hisstone-yard, which would account for his paying taxes on the place andvisiting it so often? Or did he simply love the solitude of the drearywaste where, safe from prying eyes, he could sit among the rockyboulders and commune with himself beneath the moonlit sky?

Such conjectures as these occupied the girl's mind while she stealthily"shadowed" the old man along the lane. Never once did he look behindhim, although she was prepared to dissolve from view instantly, had hedone so. And at last the end of the lane was reached and he climbed therail fence which separated it from the valley of stones. 

Josie saw him suddenly pause, motionless, as he clung to the rails. Sheguessed from his attitude that he was staring straight ahead of him atsomething that had surprised him. A full minute he remained thus beforehe let himself down on the other side and disappeared from view. 

The girl ran lightly forward and, crouching low, peered through thebars of the fence. Half a dozen paces distant the old man stood amongthe stones in a silent paroxysm of rage. He waved his long arms in theair, anon clenching his fists and shaking them at some object beyondhim. His frail old body fluttered back and forth, right and left, as ifhe were doing a weird dance among the rocks. The violence of hisemotion was something terrible to witness and fairly startled the girl. Had he screamed, or sobbed, or shrieked, or moaned, the scene wouldhave been more bearable, but such excess of silent, intense rage, madeher afraid for the first time in her life. 

She wanted to run away. At one time she actually turned to fly; butthen common sense came to her rescue and she resolved to stay anddiscover what had affected Old Swallowtail so strongly. From herpresent position she could see nothing more than a vista of tumbledstones, but rising until her head projected above the topmost rail shepresently saw, far across the valley, an automobile, standingsilhouetted against the gray background. 

The machine was at present vacant. It had been driven in from the otherside of the valley, where doubtless there were other lanescorresponding with the one she was in. However, there was no fence onthat side to separate the lane from the waste tract, so the machine hadbeen driven as close as possible to the edge of the stones. 

Although the automobile was deserted, that was evidently the objectwhich had aroused old Cragg's fury, the object at which he was even yetshaking his clenched fists. Josie wondered and watched. Gradually theparoxysm of wrath diminished. Presently the old man stood as motionlessas the stones about him. Five minutes, perhaps, he remained thus, controlling himself by a mighty effort, regaining his capacity to thinkand reason. Then, to the girl's amazement, he tottered toward a large, shelf-like slab of stone and kneeling down, as before an altar, hebared his head, raised his arms on high and began to pray. 

There was no mistaking this attitude. Old Swallowtail was calling onGod to support him in this hour of trial. Josie felt somethingclutching at her heart. Nothing could be more impressive than thisscene--this silent but earnest appeal to the Most High by the man whomshe suspected of murder--of crimes even more terrible. She could seehis eyes, pleading and sincere, turned upward; could see his gray hairflutter in the breeze; could see his lips move, though they uttered nosound. And after he had poured out his heart to his Maker he extendedhis arms upon the slab, rested his head upon them and again becamemotionless. 

The girl waited. She was sorely troubled, surprised, even humiliated atbeing the witness of this extraordinary and varied display of emotion. She felt a sense of intrusion that was almost unjustifiable, even in adetective. What right had anyone to spy upon a communion between Godand man?

He rose, at length, rose and walked uncertainly forward, stumblingamong the ragged rocks. He made for the far hillside that was clutteredwith huge fragments of stone, some weighing many tons and all tumbledhelter-skelter as if aimlessly tossed there by some giant hand. Andwhen he reached the place he threaded his way between several greatboulders and suddenly disappeared. 

Josie hesitated a moment what to do, yet instinct urged her to follow. She had a feeling that she was on the verge of an important discovery, that events were about to happen which had been wholly unforeseen evenby old Cragg himself. 

She was taking a serious risk by venturing on the stony ground, forunder the moonlight her dark form would show distinctly against thedull gray of the stones. Yet she climbed the fence and with her eyefixed on the cluster of rocks where Old Swallowtail had disappeared shemade her way as best she could toward the place. Should the old manreappear or the owner of the strange automobile emerge from the rocksJosie was sure to be discovered, and there was no telling what penaltyshe might be obliged to pay for spying. It was a dreary, desertedplace; more than one grave might be made there without much chance ofdetection. 

In a few minutes she had reached the hillside and was among the greatboulders. She passed between the same ones where Mr. Cragg haddisappeared but found so many set here and there that to follow histrail was impossible unless chance led her aright. 

There were no paths, for a rubble of small stones covered the groundeverywhere. Between some of the huge rocks the passage was so narrowshe could scarcely squeeze through; between others there was amplespace for two people to walk abreast. The girl paused frequently tolisten, taking care the while to make no sound herself, but an intensesilence pervaded the place. 

After wandering here and there for a time without result she hadstarted to return to the entrance of this labyrinth when her ears forthe first time caught a sound--a peculiar grinding, thumping sound thatcame from beneath her feet seemingly, and was of so unusual a characterthat she was puzzled to explain its cause. 

The shadows cast by the towering rocks rendered this place quite dark, so Josie crouched in the deepest shade she could find and listenedcarefully to the strange sound, trying to determine its origin. It wassurely under ground--a little to the right of her--perhaps beneath thehillside, which slanted abruptly from this spot. She decided there mustbe some secret passage that led to a cave under the hill. Such a cavemight be either natural or artificial; in either case she was sure oldCragg used it as a rendezvous or workshop and visited it stealthily onhis "wakeful" nights. 

Having located the place to the best of her ability Josie began toconsider what caused that regular, thumping noise, which stillcontinued without intermission. 

"I think it must be some sort of an engine, " she reflected; "a stampfor ore, or something of that sort. Still, it isn't likely there is anysteam or electrical power to operate the motor of so big a machine. Itmight be a die stamp, though, operated by foot power, or--this is mostlikely--a foot-power printing-press. Well, if a die stamp or a printingpress, I believe the mystery of Old Swallowtail's 'business' is readilyexplained. "

She sat still there, crouching between the rocks, for more than twohours before the sound of the machine finally ceased. Another hourpassed in absolute silence. She ventured to flash her pocketsearchlight upon the dial of her watch and found it was nearly fouro'clock. Dawn would come, presently, and then her situation would bemore precarious than ever. 

While she thus reflected the sound of footsteps reached her ears--verynear to her, indeed--and a voice muttered:

"Come this way. Have you forgotten?"

"Forgotten? I found the place, didn't I?" was the surly reply. 

Then there passed her, so closely that she could have touched them, three dim forms. She watched them go and promptly followed, taking thechance of discovery if they looked behind. They were wholly unconsciousof her presence, however, and soon made their way out into the open. There they paused, and Josie, hiding behind a high rock, could both seeand hear them plainly. 

One was old Cragg; another a tall, thin man with a monocle in his lefteye; the third, she found to her surprise, was none other than JimBennett the postman. The tall man held in his arms a heavy bundle, securely wrapped. 

"You'll surely get them off to-morrow?" said Cragg to him, "Of course, " was the answer. "You may be certain I'll not have them onmy hands longer than is necessary. "

"Do you mean to play square, this time?"

"Don't be a fool, " said the tall man impatiently. "Your infernalsuspicions have caused trouble enough, during the past year. Hiddenlike a crab in your shell, you think everything on the outside is goingwrong. Can't you realize, Cragg, that I _must_ be loyal to C. I. L. ?There's no question of my playing square; I've got to. "

"That's right, sir, " broke in Jim Bennett. "Seems to me he's explainedeverything in a satisfactory manner--as far as anyone _could_ explain. "

"Then good night, " said Cragg, gruffly, "and--good luck. "

"Good night, " growled the tall man in return and made off in thedirection of the automobile, carrying the package with him. The othertwo stood silently watching him until he reached the car, took his seatand started the motor. Presently the machine passed out of sight andthen Bennett said in a tone of deepest respect:

"Good night, Chief. This meeting was a great thing for C. I. L. Itbrings us all nearer to final success. "

"I wish I could trust him, " replied Cragg, doubtfully. "Good night, Jim. "

The postman made off in another direction and the old man waited untilhe had fully disappeared before he walked away over the stones himself. Josie let him go. She did not care to follow him home. Weary though shewas from her long vigil she determined to examine the rocks by daylightbefore she left the place. 

The sun was just showing its rim over the hills when she quittedHezekiah Cragg's five acres of stones and took the lane to the highway. But her step was elastic, her eyes bright, her face smiling. 

"I've found the entrance, though I couldn't break in, " she proudlymurmured. "But a little dynamite--or perhaps a few blows of an axe--will soon remove the barrier. This affair, however, is now too big andtoo serious for me to handle alone. I must have help. I think it willamaze dear old Dad to know what I've stumbled on this night!"

CHAPTER XVIIIDOUBTS AND SUSPICIONS

Mary Louise entered her friend's room at seven o'clock and exclaimed:"Not up yet?"

Josie raised her head drowsily from the pillow. 

"Let me sleep till noon, " she pleaded. "I've been out all night. "

"And did you learn anything?" was the eager question. 

"Please let me sleep!"

"Shall I send you up some breakfast, Josie?"

"Breakfast? Bah!"

She rolled over, drawing the clothes about her, and Mary Louise softlyleft the darkened room and went down to breakfast. 

"Gran'pa Jim, " said she, thoughtfully buttering her toast, "do youthink it's right for Josie to be wandering around in the dead ofnight?"

He gave her an odd look and smiled. 

"If I remember aright, it was one Miss Mary Louise Burrows who thrustJosie into this vortex of mystery. "

"You didn't answer my question, Gran'pa Jim. "

"I can imagine no harm, to girl or man, in being abroad in thispeaceful country at night, if one has the nerve to undertake it. Youand I, dear, prefer our beds. Josie is wrapped up in the science ofcriminal investigation and has the enthusiasm of youth to egg her on. Moreover, she is sensible enough to know what is best for her. I do notthink we need worry over her nightly wanderings, which doubtless havean object. Has she made any important discovery as yet?"

"I believe not, " said Mary Louise. "She has learned enough to bepositive that old Mr. Cragg is engaged in some secret occupation of anillegal character, but so far she is unable to determine what it is. He's a very queer old man, it seems, but shrewd and clever enough tokeep his secret to himself. "

"And how about the disappearance of Mr. Joselyn?"

"We're divided in opinion about that, " said the girl. "Ingua and I bothbelieve Mr. Cragg murdered him, but Josie isn't sure of it. If he did, however, Josie thinks we will find the poor man's grave somewhere underthe stones of the river bed. There was no grave dug on our grounds, that is certain. "

Colonel Hathaway regarded her seriously. 

"I am sorry, Mary Louise, " he remarked, "that we ever decided to mix inthis affair. I did not realize, when first you proposed having Josiehere, that the thing might become so tragic. "

"It has developed under investigation, you see, " she replied. "But I amnot very sure of Josie's ability, because she is not very sure of itherself. She dare not, even yet, advance a positive opinion. Unless shelearned something last night she is still groping in the dark. "

"We must give her time, " said the Colonel. 

"We have accomplished some good, however, " continued the girl. "Inguais much happier and more content. She is improving in her speech andmanners and is growing ambitious to become a respectable and refinedyoung lady. She doesn't often give way to temper, as she used to do onevery occasion, and I am sure if she could be removed from hergrandfather's evil influence she would soon develop in a way tosurprise us all. "

"Does her grandfather's influence seem to be evil, then?" asked theColonel. 

"He has surrounded her with privations, if not with actual want, " saidshe. "Only the night before last he was in such a violent rage that hetried to smash everything in the house. That is surely an evil exampleto set before the child, who has a temper of her own, perhaps inheritedfrom him. He has, however, bought her a new dress--the first one shehas had in more than a year--so perhaps the old man at times relentstoward his granddaughter and tries to atone for his shortcomings. "

Gran'pa Jim was thoughtful for a time. 

"Perhaps, " he presently remarked, "Mr. Cragg has but little money tobuy dresses with. I do not imagine that a man so well educated as youreport him to be would prefer to live in a hovel, if he could affordanything better. "

"If he is now poor, what has he done with all his money?" demanded MaryLouise. 

"That is a part of the mystery, isn't it? Do you know, my dear, I can'thelp having a kindly thought for this poor man; perhaps because he is agrandfather and has a granddaughter--just as I have. "

"He doesn't treat her in the same way, Gran'pa Jim, " said she, with aloving look toward the handsome old Colonel. 

"And there is a perceptible difference between Ingua and Mary Louise, "he added with a smile. 

They were to have Ingua's dress fitted by Miss Huckins that morning, and as Josie was fast asleep Mary Louise went across to the cottage togo with the girl on her errand. To her surprise she found old Mr. Craggsitting upon his little front porch, quite motionless and with his armsfolded across his chest. He stared straight ahead and was evidently indeep thought. This was odd, because he was usually at his office anhour or more before this time. 

Mary Louise hesitated whether to advance or retreat. She had never asyet come into personal contact with Ingua's grandfather and, suspectinghim of many crimes, she shrank from meeting him now. But she washerself in plain sight before she discovered his presence and it wouldbe fully as embarrassing to run away as to face him boldly. Moreover, through the open doorway she could see Ingua passing back and forth inthe kitchen, engaged in her customary housework. So on she came. 

Mr. Cragg had not seemed to observe her, at first, but as she nowapproached the porch he rose from his chair and bowed with a courtlygrace that astonished her. In many ways his dignified manners seemed tofit his colonial costume. 

"You will find Ingua inside, I believe, " he said. 

"I--I am Mary Louise Burrows. "

Again he bowed. 

"I am glad to meet you, Miss Burrows. And I am glad that you and Inguaare getting acquainted, " he rejoined, in even, well modulated tones. "She has not many friends and her association with you will be sure tobenefit her. "

Mary Louise was so amazed that she fairly gasped. 

"I--I like Ingua, " she said. "We're going into town to have her newdress tried on this morning. "

He nodded and resumed his chair. His unexpected politeness gave hercourage. 

"It's going to be a pretty dress, " she continued, "and, if only she hada new hat to go with it, Ingua would have a nice outfit. She needs newshoes, though, " as an afterthought, "and perhaps a few other littlethings--like stockings and underwear. "

He was silent, wholly unresponsive to her suggestion. 

"I--I'd like to buy them for her myself, " went on the girl, in awistful tone, "only Ingua is so proud that she won't accept gifts fromme. "

Still he remained silent. 

"I wonder, " she said, with obvious hesitation, "if you would allow meto give _you_ the things, sir, and then you give them to Ingua, as ifthey came from yourself. "

"No!" It was a veritable explosion, so fierce that she started back interror. Then he rose from his chair, abruptly quitted the porch andwalked down the path toward the bridge in his accustomed deliberate, dignified manner. 

Ingua, overhearing his ejaculation, came to the open window to see whathad caused it. 

"Oh, it's you, Mary Louise, is it?" she exclaimed. "Thank goodness, you've drove Gran'dad off to the office. I thought he'd planted himselfin that chair for the whole day. "

"Are you ready to go to Miss Huckins'?" asked Mary Louise. 

"I will be, in a few minutes. Gran'dad was late gett'n' up this mornin'and that put things back. He had the 'wakes' ag'in last night. "

"Oh; did he walk out, then?"

"Got back at about daylight and went to bed. That's why he slep' solate. "

Mary Louise reflected that in such a case Josie ought to have some newsto tell her. She answered Ingua's inquiries after Josie by saying shewas engaged this morning and would not go to town with them, sopresently the two girls set off together. Mary Louise was much betterqualified to direct the making of the new dress than was Josie, and shegave Miss Huckins some hints on modern attire that somewhat astonishedthe country dressmaker but were gratefully received. There was noquestion but that Mary Louise was stylishly, if simply, dressed on alloccasions, and so Miss Huckins was glad to follow the young girl'sadvice. 

They were in the dressmaker's shop a long time, fitting and planning, and when at length they came down the stairs they saw Sol Jerremsstanding in his door and closely scrutinizing through his big hornspectacles something he held in his hand. As Mary Louise wished to makea slight purchase at the store she approached the proprietor, who saidin a puzzled tone of voice:

"I dunno what t' say to you folks, 'cause I'm up in the air. This moneymay be genooine, but it looks to me like a counterfeit, " and he held upa new ten-dollar bill. 

"I want a roll of tape, please, " said Mary Louise. "I hope your moneyis good, Mr. Jerrems, but its value cannot interest us. "

"I dunno 'bout that, " he replied, looking hard at Ingua, "Ol'Swallertail gimme this bill, not ten minutes ago, an' said as hisgran'darter was to buy whatever she liked, as fur as the money wouldgo. That order was so queer that it made me suspicious. See here: a fewdays ago ol' Cragg bought Ingua a dress--an' paid for it, by gum!--an'now he wants her t' git ten dollars' wuth o' shoes an' things! Don'tthat look mighty strange?"

"Why?" asked Mary Louise. 

"'Cause it's the first money he's spent on the kid since I kinremember, an' he's allus talkin' poverty an' says how he'll die in thepoorhouse if prices keep goin' up, as they hev durin' the furrin warthat's now hummin' acrost the water. If he's _that_ poor, an' on asudden springs a ten-dollar bill on me for fixin's fer his kid, there'ssure somethin' wrong somewhere. I got stuck on a bill jus' like this ayear ago, an' I ain't goin' to let any goods go till I find out forsure whether it's real money or not. "

"When can you find out?" inquired Mary Louise. 

"To-morrer there's a drummer due here f'm the city--a feller keen as arazor--who'll know in a minute if the bill is a counterfeit. If he saysit's good, then Ingua kin trade it out, but I ain't goin' to take nochances. "

Ingua came close to the storekeeper, her face dark with passion. 

"Come, " said Mary Louise, taking the child's arm, "let us go home. I amsure Mr. Jerrems is over particular and that the money is all right. But we can wait until to-morrow, easily. Come, Ingua. "

The child went reluctantly, much preferring to vent her indignation onold Sol. Mary Louise tried to get her mind off the insult. 

"We'll have the things, all right, Ingua, " she said. "Wasn't itsplendid in your grandfather to be so generous, when he has so littlemoney to spend? And the ten dollars will fit you up famously. I wish, though, " she added, "there was another or a better store at theCrossing at which to trade. "

"Well, there ain't, " observed Ingua, "so we hev to put up with that SolJerrems. When I tell Gran'dad about this business I bet he'll punch SolJerrems' nose. "

"Don't tell him, " advised Mary Louise. 

"Why not?"

"I think he gave this money to Mr. Jerrems on a sudden impulse. Perhaps, if there is any question about its being genuine, he will takeit back, and you will lose the value of it. Better wait untilto-morrow, when of course the drummer will pronounce it all right. Myopinion is that Mr. Jerrems is so unused to new ten dollar bills thathaving one makes him unjustly suspicious. "

"I guess yer right, " said Ingua more cheerfully. "It's amazin' thatGran'dad loosened up at all. An' he might repent, like you say, an'take the money back. So I'll be like ol' Sol--I'll take no chances. "

CHAPTER XIXGOOD MONEY FOR BAD

At luncheon Josie appeared at the table, fresh as ever, and Mary Louisebegan to relate to her and to her grandfather the occurrences of themorning. When she came to tell how Sol Jerrems had declared the moneycounterfeit, Josie suddenly sprang up and swung her napkin around herhead, shouting gleefully:

"Glory hallelujah! I've got him. I've trapped Old Swallowtail at last. "

They looked at her in amazement. 

"What do you mean?" asked Mary Louise. 

Josie sobered instantly. 

"Forgive me, " she said; "I'm ashamed of myself. Go on with the story. What became of that counterfeit bill?"

"Mr. Jerrems has it yet. He is keeping it to show to a commercialtraveler, who is to visit his store to-morrow. If the man declares themoney is good, then Ingua may buy her things. "

"We won't bother the commercial traveler, " said Josie, in a tone ofrelief. "I'm going straight down to the store to redeem that bill. Iwant it in my possession. "

Colonel Hathaway regarded her gravely. 

"I think our female detective, having said so much and having exhibitedsuch remarkable elation, must now explain her discoveries to us morefully, " said he. 

"I'd rather not, just yet, " protested Josie. "But what have I said inmy madness, and what did my words imply?"

"From the little I know of this case, " replied the Colonel, "I mustjudge that you believe Mr. Cragg to be a counterfeiter, and that hismysterious business is--to counterfeit. In this out-of-the-way place, "he continued, thoughtfully, "such a venture might be carried on for along time without detection. Yet there is one thing that to me forbidsthis theory. "

"What is that, sir?"

"A counterfeiter must of necessity have confederates, and Mr. Craggseems quite alone in the conduct of his mysterious business. "

Josie smiled quite contentedly. Confederates? Last night's discoverieshad proved that Old Swallowtail had two of these, at least. 

"Please don't lisp a word of this suspicion at present, " she warned herfriends. "If I am right--and I have no doubt of that--we are about touncover a far-reaching conspiracy to defraud the Government. But theslightest hint of danger would enable them to escape and I want thecredit of putting this gang of desperadoes behind the bars. Really, I'dno idea, when I began the investigation, that it would lead to anythingso important. I thought, at first, it might be a simple murder case;simple, because the commonest people commit murder, and to thedetective the deed is more revolting than exciting. But we may dismissthe murder suspicion entirely. "

"Oh, indeed! What about Ned Joselyn's mysterious disappearance?" askedMary Louise. 

"Joselyn? He disappeared for a purpose, " answered Josie. "I saw himlast night--monocle and all--acting as old Cragg's confederate. NedJoselyn is one of those I hope to land in prison. "

Her hearers seemed quite bewildered by this positive statement. 

"Where were you last night?" inquired Mary Louise. 

"At that five acres of stones we once visited, which is Mr. Cragg'sprivate property. Hidden somewhere in the hillside is a cavern, and inthat cavern the counterfeit money is made. I have heard theprinting-press turning it out in quantity; I saw Ned Joselyn come awaywith a package of the manufactured bills and heard Old Swallowtailimplore him to 'play square' with the proceeds. There was another ofthe gang present, also; a man whom I had considered quite an innocentcitizen of Cragg's Crossing until I discovered him with the others. Ithink it was he who operated the press. It has been a very pretty plot, a cleverly conducted plot; and it has been in successful operation foryears. But the gang is in the toils, just now, and little redheadedJosie O'Gorman is going to score a victory that will please herdetective daddy mightily. " Josie was surely elated when she venturedto boast in this manner. The others were duly impressed. 

"You don't mean to arrest those men alone, do you, Josie?" asked theColonel somewhat anxiously. 

"No, indeed. I'm not yet quite ready to spring my trap, " she replied. "When the time comes, I must have assistance, but I want to get all myevidence shipshape before I call on the Secret Service to make thecapture. I can't afford to bungle so important a thing, you know, andthis ten dollar bill, so carelessly given the storekeeper, is going toput one powerful bit of evidence in my hands. That was a bad slip onold Cragg's part, for he has been very cautious in covering his tracks, until now. But I surmise that Mary Louise's pleading for Ingua, thismorning, touched his pride, and having no real money at hand heventured to give the storekeeper a counterfeit. And old Sol, havingbeen caught by a counterfeit once before--I wonder if Old Swallowtailgave him that one, too?--became suspicious of the newness of the billand so played directly into our hands. So now, if you'll excuse me, I'll run to town without further delay. I won't rest easy until thatbill is in my possession. "

"I'll go with you, " said Mary Louise eagerly. 

Half an hour later the two girls entered the store and found theproprietor alone. Mary Louise made a slight purchase, as an excuse, andthen Josie laid ten silver dollars on the counter and said carelessly:

"Will you give me a ten dollar bill for this silver, Mr. Jerrems? Iwant to send it away in a letter. "

"Sure; I'd ruther hev the change than the bill, " he answered, takingout his wallet. "But I wouldn't send so much money in a letter, if Iwas you. Better buy a post-office order. "

"I know my business, " she pertly replied, watching him unroll theleather wallet. "No; don't give me that old bill. I'd rather have thenew one on top. "

"That new one, " said he, "I don't b'lieve is good. Looks like acounterfeit, to me. "

"Let's see it, " proposed Josie, taking the bill in her hand andscrutinizing it. "I can tell a counterfeit a mile away. No; this is allright; I'll take it, " she decided. 

"Yer like to git stung, if ye do, " he warned her. 

"I'll take my chances, " said Josie, folding the bill and putting it inher purse. "You've got good money for it, anyhow, so you've no kickcoming, that I can see. "

"Why, that must be the bill Mr. Cragg gave you, " Mary Louise said tothe storekeeper, as if she had just recognized it. 

"It is, " admitted Sol. 

"Then Ingua can now buy her outfit?"

"Any time she likes, " he said. "But I want it reg'lar understood thatthe sewin'-girl can't bring the money back to me, if she finds it bad. I ain't sure it's bad, ye know, but I've warned her, an' now it's herlook-out. "

"Of course it is, " agreed Josie. "But don't worry. The bill is good asgold. I wish I had a hundred like it. "

On their way home Josie stopped to call on Ingua, while Mary Louise, ather friend's request, went on. 

"I've two important things to tell you, " Josie announced to the child. "One is that you needn't worry any more about Ned Joselyn's being dead. A girl whom I know well has lately seen him alive and in good health, so whatever your grandfather's crimes may have been he is not amurderer. "

Ingua was astounded. After a moment she gasped out:

"How d'ye know? Who was the girl? Are ye sure it were Ned Joselyn?"

"Quite sure. He has probably been in hiding, for some reason. But youmustn't tell a soul about this, Ingua; especially your grandfather. Itis part of the secret between us, and that's the reason I have toldyou. "

Ingua still stared as if bewildered. 

"Who was the girl?" she whispered. 

"I can't tell you her name, but you may depend upon the truth of herstatement, just the same. "

"And she's _sure_ it were Ned Joselyn she saw?"

"Isn't he tall and thin, with a light moustache and curly hair, anddoesn't he wear a glass in one eye?"

"With a string to it; yes! That's him, sure enough. Where'd she seehim?"

"Don't ask me questions. It's a part of the girl's secret, you know. She let me tell you this much, so that you wouldn't worry any longerover the horror of that winter night when your grandfather went to theKenton house and Joselyn disappeared. I think, Ingua, that the man iscrooked, and mixed up with a lot of scoundrels who ought to be injail. "

Ingua nodded her head. 

"Gran'dad told him he was crooked, " she affirmed. "I don't say asGran'dad is a saint, Josie, but he ain't crooked, like Ned--ye kin bankon that--'cause he's a Cragg, an' the Craggs is square-toes even whenthey're chill'ins. "

Josie smiled at this quaint speech. She was sorry for poor Ingua, whosestalwart belief in the Cragg honesty was doomed to utter annihilationwhen her grandsire was proved to have defrauded the Government bymaking counterfeit money. But this was no time to undeceive the child, so she said:

"The other bit of news is that Sol Jerrems has traded the bill which hethought was bad for good money, so you can buy your things any time youplease. "

"Then it wasn't counterfeit?"

"I saw it myself. I've lived in the city so long that no one can foolme with counterfeit money. I can tell it in two looks, Ingua. So I'drather have a nice new bill than ten clumsy silver dollars and I madethe trade myself. "

"Where'd ye get so much money, Josie?"

"My wages. I don't do much work, but I get paid regularly once a week. "

She didn't explain that her father made her a weekly allowance, butIngua was satisfied. 

"What do you think I orter buy with that money, Josie? I need so manythings that it's hard to tell where to begin and where to leave off. "

"Let's make a list, then, and figure it out. "

This occupied them some time and proved a very fascinating occupationto the poor girl, who had never before had so much money to spend atone time. 

"I owe it all to Mary Louise, " she said gratefully, as Josie rose todepart. "It seems like no one can refuse Mary Louise anything. When sheasked me to be more careful in my speech didn't I do better? I slips, now an' then, but I'ms always tryin'. And she tackled Gran'dad. If youor me--or I--had asked Gran'dad for that money, Josie, we'd never 'a'got it in a thousan' years. Why do you s'pose Mary Louise gits intopeople the way she does?"

"It's personality, I suppose, " answered Josie, thoughtfully. And then, realizing that Ingua might not understand that remark, she added:"There's no sham about Mary Louise; she's so simple and sweet that shewins hearts without any effort. You and I have natures so positive, onthe contrary, that we seem always on the aggressive, and that makesfolks hold aloof from us, or even oppose us. "

"I wish I was like Mary Louise, " said Ingua with a sigh. 

"I don't, " declared Josie. "We can't all be alike, you know, and I'drather push ahead, and get a few knocks on the way, then have a clearpath and no opposition. "

CHAPTER XXAN UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE

For a week it was very quiet at Cragg's Crossing. The only ripple ofexcitement was caused by the purchase of Ingua's new outfit. In thisthe child was ably assisted by Mary Louise and Josie; indeed, findingthe younger girl so ignorant of prices, and even of her own needs, thetwo elder ones entered into a conspiracy with old Sol and slyly addedanother ten dollars to Ingua's credit. The result was that she carriedhome not only shoes and a new hat--trimmed by Miss Huckins withoutcost, the material being furnished from the fund--but a liberal supplyof underwear, ribbons, collars and hosiery, and even a pair of silkgloves, which delighted the child's heart more than anything else. 

Miss Huckins' new dress proved very pretty and becoming, and with allher wealth of apparel Ingua was persuaded to dine with Mary Louise atthe Kenton house on Saturday evening. The hour was set for seveno'clock, in order to allow the girl to prepare her grandfather's supperbefore going out, and the first intimation Old Swallowtail had of thearrangement was when he entered the house Saturday evening and foundIngua arrayed in all her finery. 

He made no remark at first, but looked at her more than once--whetherapprovingly or not his stolid expression did not betray. When the girldid not sit down to the table and he observed she had set no place forherself, he suddenly said:

"Well?"

"I'm goin' to eat with the Hathaways to-night, " she replied. "Theirdinner ain't ready till seven o'clock, so if ye hurry a little I kinwash the dishes afore I go. "

He offered no objection. Indeed, he said nothing at all until he hadfinished his simple meal. Then, as she cleared the table, he said:

"It might be well, while you are in the society of Mary Louise andColonel Hathaway, to notice their method of speech and try to imitateit. "

"What's wrong with my talk?" she demanded. She was annoyed at thesuggestion, because she had been earnestly trying to imitate MaryLouise's speech. 

"I will leave you to make the discovery yourself, " he said dryly. 

She tossed her dishes into the hot water rather recklessly. 

"If I orter talk diff'rent, " said she, "it's your fault. Ye hain't giveme no schooling ner noth'n'. Ye don't even say six words a week to me. I'm just your slave, to make yer bed an' cook yer meals an' wash yerdishes. Gee! how'd ye s'pose I'd talk? Like a lady?"

"I think, " he quietly responded, "you picked up your slang from yourmother, who, however, had some education. The education ruined her forthe quiet life here and she plunged into the world to get theexcitement she craved. Hasn't she been sorry for it many times, Ingua?"

"I don't know much 'bout Marm, an' I don't care whether she's sorry ornot. But I do know I need an eddication. If Mary Louise hadn't had noeddication she'd 'a' been just like me: a bit o' junk on a scrap-heap, that ain't no good to itself ner anybody else. "

He mused silently for a while, getting up finally and walking over tothe door. 

"Your peculiarities of expression, " he then remarked, as if more tohimself than to the child, "are those we notice in Sol Jerrems and JoeBrennan and Mary Ann Hopper. They are characteristic, of the ruralpopulation, which, having no spur to improve its vocabulary, naturallygrows degenerate in speech. "

She glanced at him half defiantly, not sure whether he was "pokin' funat her" or not. 

"If you mean I talks country talk, " said she, "you're right. Whyshouldn't I, with no one to tell me better?"

Again he mused. His mood was gentle this evening. 

"I realize I have neglected you, " he presently said. "You were thrustupon me like a stray kitten, which one does not want but cannot wellreject. Your mother has not supplied me with money for your education, although she has regularly paid for your keep. "

"She has?" cried Ingua, astounded. "Then you've swindled her an' meboth, for I pays for more'n my keep in hard work. My keep? For the loveo' Mike, what does my keep amount to? A cent a year?"

He winced a little at her sarcasm but soon collected himself. Strangelyenough, he did not appear to be angry with her. 

"I've neglected you, " he repeated, "but it has been an oversight. Ihave had so much on my mind that I scarcely realized you were here. Iforgot you are Nan's child and that you--you needed attention. "

Ingua put on her new hat, looking into a cracked mirror. 

"Ye might 'a' remembered I'm a Cragg, anyhow, " said she, mollified byhis tone of self reproach. "An' ye might 'a' remembered as _you're_ aCragg. The Craggs orter help each other, 'cause all the world's ag'in'em. "

He gave her an odd look, in which pride, perplexity and astonishmentmingled. 

"And you are going into the enemy's camp to-night?"

"Oh, Mary Louise is all right. She ain't like them other snippy girlsthat sometimes comes here to the big houses. _She_ don't care if I _am_a Cragg, or if I talks country. I like Mary Louise. "

When she had gone the old man sat in deep thought for a long time. Thesummer evening cast shadows; twilight fell; darkness gradually shroudedthe bare little room. Still he sat in his chair, staring straight aheadinto the gloom and thinking. 

Then the door opened. Shifting his eyes he discovered a dim shadow inthe opening. Whoever it was stood motionless until a low, clear voiceasked sharply:

"Anybody home?"

He got up, then, and shuffled to a shelf, where he felt for a kerosenelamp and lighted it. 

"Come in, Nan, " he said without turning around, as he stooped over thelamp and adjusted the wick. 

The yellow light showed a young woman standing in the doorway, a womanof perhaps thirty-five. She was tall, erect, her features well formed, her eyes bright and searching. Her walking-suit was neat and modish andfitted well her graceful, rounded form. On her arm was a huge basket, which she placed upon a chair as she advanced into the room and closedthe door behind her. 

"So you've come back, " remarked Old Swallowtail, standing before herand regarding her critically. 

"A self-evident fact, Dad, " she answered lightly, removing her hat. "Where's Ingua?"

"At a dinner party across the river. "

"That's good. Is she well?"

"What do you care, Nan, whether she is well or not?"

"If she's at a dinner party I needn't worry. Forgive the foolishquestion, Dad. Brennan promised to bring my suit case over in themorning. I lugged the basket myself. "

"What's in the basket?"

"Food. Unless you've changed your mode of living the cupboard's prettybare, and this is Saturday night. I can sleep on that heartbreakinghusk mattress with Ingua, but I'll be skinned if I eat your salt junkand corn pone. Forewarned is forearmed; I brought my own grub. "

As she spoke she hung her hat and coat on some pegs, turned the lamp alittle higher and then, pausing with hands on hips, she lookedinquisitively at her father. 

"You seem pretty husky, for your age, " she continued, with a hardlittle laugh. 

"You've been prospering, Nan. "

"Yes, " sitting in a chair and crossing her legs, "I've found my forteat last. For three years, nearly, I've been employed by the SecretService Department at Washington. "

"Ah. "

"I've made good. My record as a woman sleuth is excellent. I make moremoney in a week--when I'm working--than you do in a year. Unless--" Shepaused abruptly and gave him a queer look. 

"Unless it's true that you're coining money in a way that's not legal. "

He stood motionless before her, reading her face. She returned hisscrutiny with interest. Neither resumed the conversation for a time. Finally the old man sank back into his chair. 

"A female detective, " said he, a little bitterly, "is still--a female. "

"And likewise a detective. I know more about you, Dad, than you think, "she asserted, in an easy, composed tone that it seemed impossible todisturb. "You need looking after, just at this juncture, and as I'vebeen granted a vacation I ran up here to look after you. "

"In what way, Nan?"

"We'll talk that over later. There isn't much love lost between us, more's the pity. You've always thought more of your infernal 'Cause'than of your daughter. But we're Craggs, both of us, and it's the Craggcustom to stand by the family. "

It struck him as curious that Ingua had repeated almost those verywords earlier that same evening. He had never taught them the Craggmotto, "Stand Fast, " that he could remember, yet both Nan and her childwere loyal to the code. Was _he_ loyal, too? Had he stood by Nan in thepast, and Ingua in the present, as a Cragg should do?

His face was a bit haggard as he sat in his chair and faced hisfrank-spoken daughter, whose clear eyes did not waver before hisquestioning gaze. 

"I know what you're thinking, " said she; "that I've never been much ofa daughter to you. Well, neither have you been much of a father to me. Ever since I was born and my unknown mother--lucky soul!--died, you'vebeen obsessed by an idea which, lofty and altruistic as you may haveconsidered it, has rendered you self-centered, cold and inconsiderateof your own flesh and blood. Then there's that devilish temper of yoursto contend with. I couldn't stand the life here. I wandered away andgoodness knows how I managed to live year after year in a struggle withthe world, rather than endure your society and the hardships you thrustupon me. You've always had money, yet not a cent would you devote toyour family. You lived like a dog and wanted me to do the same, and Iwouldn't. Finally I met a good man and married him. He wasn't rich buthe was generous. When he died I was thrown on my own resources again, with a child of my own to look after. Circumstances forced me to leaveIngua with you while I hunted for work. I found it. I'm a detective, well-known and respected in my profession. "

"I'm glad to know you are prosperous, " he said gently, as she paused. He made no excuses. He did not contradict her accusations. He waited tohear her out. 

"So, " said Nan, in a careless, offhand tone, "I've come here to saveyou. You're in trouble. "

"I am not aware of it. "

"Very true. If you were, the danger would be less. I've always had toguess at most of your secret life. I knew you were sly and secretive. Ididn't know until now that you've been crooked. "

He frowned a little but made no retort. 

"It doesn't surprise me, however, " she continued. "A good many folksare crooked, at times, and the only wonder is that a clever man likeyou has tripped and allowed himself to fall under suspicion. Suspicionleads to investigation--when it's followed up--and investigation, insuch cases, leads to--jail. "

He gave a low growl that sounded like the cry of an enraged beast, andgripped the arms of his chair fiercely. Then he rose and paced the roomwith frantic energy. Nan watched him with a half smile on her face. When he had finally mastered his wrath and became more quiet she said:

"Don't worry, Dad. I said I have come to save you. It will be fun, after working for the Government so long, to work against it. There's acertain red-headed imp in this neighborhood who is the daughter of ourassistant chief, John O'Gorman. Her name is Josie O'Gorman and she's intraining for the same profession of which I'm an ornament. I won'tsneer at her, for she's clever, in a way, but I'd like to show O'Gormanthat Nan Shelley--that's my name in Washington--is a little more cleverthan his pet. This Josie O'Gorman is staying with the Hathaway family. She's been probing your secret life and business enterprises and hasunearthed an important clew in which the department is bound to beinterested. So she sent a code telegram to O'Gorman, who left it on hisdesk long enough for me to decipher and read it. I don't know what theassistant chief will do about it, for I left Washington an hour laterand came straight to you. What I do know is that I'm in time to spikeMiss Josie's guns, which will give me a great deal of pleasure. Shedoesn't know I'm your daughter, any more than O'Gorman does, so if thegirl sees me here she'll imagine I'm on Government business. But I wantto keep out of her way for a time. Do you know the girl, Dad?"

"Yes, " he said. 

"She's rather clever. "

"Yes. "

"I think she'd have nabbed you, presently, if I hadn't taken hold ofthe case so promptly myself. With our start, and the exercise of agrain of intelligence, we can baffle any opposition the girl can bringto bear. Do you wish to run away?"

"No, " he growled. 

"I'm glad of that. I like the excitement of facing danger boldly. Butthere's ample time to talk over details. I see you've had your supper, so I'll just fry myself a beefsteak. "

She opened her basket and began to prepare a meal. Old Swallowtail satand watched her. Presently he smiled grimly and Nan never noticed theexpression. Perhaps, had she done so, she would have demanded anexplanation. He rarely smiled, and certainly his daughter's disclosureswere not calculated to excite mirth, or even to amuse. 

CHAPTER XXIA CASE OF NERVES

The "hotel" at the Crossing was not an imposing affair. Indeed, hadthere not been an "office" in the front room, with a wooden desk in onecorner, six chairs and two boxes of sawdust to serve as cuspidors, thebuilding might easily have been mistaken for a private residence. Butit stood on the corner opposite the store and had a worn and scarcelylegible sign over the front door, calling it a hotel in capitalletters. 

The Hoppers, who operated the establishment, did an excellent business. On week days the farmers who came to town to trade made it a point toeat one of Silas Hopper's twenty-five cent dinners, famous for at leastfive miles around for profusion and good cookery. On Sundays--andsometimes on other days--an automobile party, touring the country, would stop at the hotel for a meal, and Mrs. Hopper was accustomed tohave a chicken dinner prepared every Sunday in the hope of attracting astray tourist. There were two guest rooms upstairs that werereligiously reserved in case some patron wished to stay overnight, butthese instances were rare unless a drummer missed his train andcouldn't get away from the Crossing until the next day. 

The Sunday following the arrival of Ingua's mother in town proved adull day with the Hoppers, who had been compelled to eat their chickendinner themselves in default of customers. The dishes had been washedand Mary Ann, the daughter of the house, was sitting on the front porchin her Sunday gown and a rocking-chair, when an automobile drove up tothe door and a dapper little man alighted. He was very elaboratelydressed, with silk hat, patent-leather shoes and a cane setting off hisPrince Albert coat and lavender striped trousers. Across his whitewaistcoat was a heavy gold watch-guard with an enormous locket danglingfrom it; he had a sparkling pin in his checkered neck-scarf that mightbe set with diamonds but perhaps wasn't; on his fingers gleamed two orthree elaborate rings. He had curly blond hair and a blond moustacheand he wore gold-rimmed eyeglasses. Altogether the little man was quitea dandy and radiated prosperity. So, when the driver of the automobilehanded out two heavy suit cases and received from the stranger a crispbill for his services, Mary Ann Hopper realized with exultation thatthe hotel was to have a guest. 

As the car which had brought him rolled away the little man turned, observed Mary Ann, and removing his silt hat bowed low. 

"I presume, " said he in precise accents, "that this town is that ofCragg's Crossing, and that this building is the hotel. Am I correct inthe surmise?"

"I'll call Pa, " said Mary Ann, somewhat embarrassed. Drummers she couldgreet with unconcern, but this important individual was a man of adifferent sort. His brilliant personality dazzled her. 

Mr. Hopper came out in his shirtsleeves, gave one look at his customerand put on his coat. 

"Goin' to stay, sir?" he asked. 

"For a time, if I like the accommodations, " was the reply. "I am inneed of perfect quiet. My doctor says I must court tranquility to avoida nervous breakdown. I do not know your town; I do not know your hotel;I hired a man in the city to drive me until I came to a quiet place. Heassured me, on the way, that this is a quiet place. "

"I dunno him, " said Hopper, "but he didn't put up no bluff. If ye canfind a quieter place ner this, outside a graveyard, I'll board ye fernoth'n'. "

"I thank you for your assurance, sir. Can you show me to the best roomyou can place at my disposal?"

"Had dinner?"

"I thank you, yes. I am weary from the long ride. I will lie down foran hour. Then I will take my usual walk. When I return I would like anomelet with mushrooms--I suppose you have no truffles?--for my eveningmeal. "

The landlord grinned and picked up the suit cases. 

"We're jest out o' truffles an' we're out o' mushrooms, " he said, "butwe're long on eggs an' ye can have 'em omeletted or fried or b'iled, asit suits yer fancy. Sophie's best hold is cookin' eggs. Sophie's mywife, ye know, an' there ain't no better cook in seven counties, so thedrummers say. "

As he spoke he entered the house and led the way up the stairs. 

"Thank you; thank you, " said the stranger. "I am glad your good wife isan experienced cook. Kindly ask her to spare no expense in preparing mymeals. I am willing to pay liberally for what I receive. "

"This room, with board, " remarked Hopper, setting down the suit casesin the front corner bedchamber, "will cost you a dollar a day, or fivedollars a week--if you eat our reg'lar meals. If ye keep callin' ferextrys, I'll hev to charge ye extry. "

"Very reasonable; very reasonable, indeed, " declared the stranger, taking a roll of bills from his pocket. "As I am at present unknown toyou, I beg you to accept this five-dollar bill in advance. And now, ifyou will bring me a pitcher of ice-water, I will take my needed siesta. My nerves, as you may have observed, are at somewhat of a tensionto-day. "

"We're out o' ice, " remarked the landlord, pocketing the money, "butye'll find plenty of good cold water at the pump in the back yard. Anything else, sir?"

"I thank you, no. I am not thirsty. Ice-water is not necessary to myhappiness. You will pardon me if I ask to be left alone--with mynerves. "

Hopper went away chuckling. His wife and Mary Ann were both at the footof the stairs, lying in wait to question him. 

"That feller's as good as a circus, " he asserted, taking off his coatagain and lighting his corncob pipe. "He's got nerves an' money, an'he's come here to git rid of 'em both. "

"Who is he?" demanded Mrs. Hopper. 

"By gum, I fergot to ask him. I got thanked fer ev'rything I did an'ev'rything I couldn't do, an' I've got five dollars o' his money in myjeans as a evidence o' good faith. The whole performance sort o'knocked me out. "

"No wonder, " asserted, his wife sympathetically. 

"I'll bet he's some punkins, though, " declared Mary Ann, "an' he'll bea godsend to us after a dull week. Only, remember this, if he kicks onthe feed he don't git no satisfaction out o' me. "

"I don't think he'll kick on anything, " said her father. "He wants eggsfor his supper, in a omelet. "

"He couldn't want anything that's cheaper to make, " said Mrs. Hopper. "The hens are layin' fine jus' now. "

"When he comes down, make him register, " suggested Mary Ann. "If yedon't, we won't know what ter call him. "

"I'll call him an easy mark, whatever his name is, " said the landlord, grinning at his own attempt at wit. 

The stranger kept his room until five o'clock. Then he came down, spickand span, his cane under his arm, upon his hands a pair of brightyellow kid gloves. 

"I will now indulge in my walk, " said he, addressing the family groupin the office. "My nerves are better, but still vibrant. I shall befurther restored on my return. "

"Jest sign the register, " proposed Hopper, pointing to a worn andsoiled book spread upon the counter. "Hate to trouble ye, but it's oneo' the rules o' my hotel. "

"No trouble, thank you; no trouble at all, " responded the stranger, anddrawing a fountain-pen from his pocket he approached the register andwrote upon the blank page. "I hope there is, nothing to see in yourtown, " he remarked, turning away. "I don't wish to see anything. Imerely desire to walk. "

"Yer wish'll come true, I guess, " said Hopper. "I've lived here overtwenty year an' I hain't seen noth'n' yet. But the walkin' is as goodas it is anywhere. "

"Thank you. I shall return at six o'clock--for the omelet, " and hewalked away with short, mincing steps that seemed to them all verycomical. 

Three heads at once bent over the register, on which the stranger had Iwritten in clear, delicate characters: "Lysander Antonius Sinclair, B. N. , Boston, Mass. "

"I wonder what the 'B. N. ' stands for, " said Mary Ann Hopper, curiously. 

"Bum Nerves, o' course, " replied the landlord. "He's got 'em, sureenough. "

CHAPTER XXIIINGUA'S MOTHER

"And how do you like your grandfather? Is he good to you?" asked Mrs. Scammel on Sunday forenoon, as she sat on the porch beside her smalldaughter. Old Swallowtail did not usually go to his office on Sundays, but kept his room at the cottage and wrote letters. To-day, however, hehad wandered down the path and disappeared, and Nan and Ingua were bothglad to see him go. 

"No, " answered the child to both questions. 

"You don't like him?"

"How can I, when he jes' sets an' glares at me ev'ry time he comes intothe house--'cept when he complains I ain't doin' my work proper? Itwere a sort o' mean trick o' yours, Marm, leavin' me here to slave ferthat ol' man while you was off in the cities, havin' a good time. "

"Yes, " said Nan, "I was frolicking with starvation until I got a job, and it was the sort of job that wouldn't allow having a child around. But since I've been making money I've sent Dad five dollars every week, for your clothes and board. "

"You have?"

"Every week. "

"Ten cents a week would pay for all the grub he gives me, an' thereain't a beggar in the county that sports the rags an' tatters I does. That new dress I had on las' night was the first thing in clothes he'sbought me for a year, and I guess I wouldn't have had that if MaryLouise hadn't told him he orter dress me more decent. "

Nan's brow grew dark. 

"I'll have it out with him for that, " she promised. "What does he dowith his money, Ingua?"

"Salts it, I guess. I never see him have any. It's one o' themysteries, Marm. Mysteries is thick aroun' Gran'dad, an' folkssuspicion 'most anything about him. All I know is that he ain't nospendthrift. Once, when Ned Joselyn used to come here, there was lotsof money passed between 'em. I saw it myself. I helped pick it up, once, when they quarreled an' upset the table an' spilled things. Butsince Ned run ayray. Gran'dad's be'n more savin' than ever. "

"Ingua, " said Nan, thoughtfully, "I want you to tell me all you knowabout Ned Joselyn, from the time he first came here. "

Ingua regarded her mother with serious eyes. 

"All?" she inquired. 

"Everything, little or big, that you can recollect. "

"You'll stick to Gran'dad, won't ye?"

"That's what I'm here for. There are enemies on his trail and I mean tosave him. "

"What's he done?"

"I've got to find that out. When I was here before, I knew he had somesecret interest to which he was devoted, but I was too indifferent tofind out what it was. Now I want to know. If I'm going to save him fromthe penalties of his crime I must know what the crime is. I think thisman Joselyn is mixed up with it in some way, so go ahead and tell meall you know about him. "

Ingua obeyed. For more than an hour she earnestly related the story ofNed Joselyn, only pausing to answer an occasional question from hermother. When she came to that final meeting at Christmas week andJoselyn's mysterious disappearance, Nan asked:

"Do you think he killed him?"

"I was pretty sure of it till yest'day, when Josie told me a friend ofhers had seen him alive an' well. "

"Josie O'Gorman?"

"No, Josie Jessup. She's the sewin'-girl over to Mary Louise's. "

"I know; but that girl has more names than one. Do you know her verywell, Ingua?"

"She's my best chum, " declared the child. "Josie's a dandy girl, an' Ilike her. "

"Have you told her anything about your gran'dad?"

"A little, " Ingua admitted, hesitating. 

"See here, " said Nan, scowling, "I'll put you wise. This red-headedJosie O'Gorman is a detective. She's the daughter of the man I work forin Washington--the assistant chief of the Department--and she is hereto try to land your gran'dad in jail. What's more, Ingua, she's likelyto do it, unless you and I find a way to head her off. "

Ingua's face depicted astonishment, grief, disappointment. Finally shesaid:

"Gran'dad didn't murder Ned, for Josie herself told me so; so I can'tsee what he's done to go to jail for. "

"He has counterfeited money, " said Nan in a low voice. 

"Gran'dad has?"

"So they say, and I believe it may be true. Josie has wired her fatherthat she's got the goods on Old Swallowtail and has asked that somebodybe sent to arrest him. I saw the telegram and made up my mind I'd getthe start of the O'Gormans. Dad won't run away. I've warned him theyare on his trail and he didn't make any reply. But I wouldn't besurprised if he's gone, this very day, to cover up his traces. He'sbright enough to know that if he destroys all evidence they can't proveanything against him. "

She spoke musingly, more to herself than the child beside her, butIngua drew a deep sigh and remarked:

"Then it's all right. Gran'dad is slick. They'll hev to get up early inthe mornin' to beat him at his own game. But I wonder what he does withthe counterfeit money, or the real money he trades it for. "

"I think I know, " said her mother. "He's chucked a fortune into onecrazy idea, in which his life has been bound up ever since I canremember, and I suppose he tried counterfeiting to get more money tochuck away in the same foolish manner. "

"What crazy idea is that?" inquired Ingua. 

"I'll tell you, sometime. Just now I see your friend Josie coming, andthat's a bit of good luck. I'm anxious to meet her, but if she sees mefirst she won't come on. " As she spoke she rose swiftly and disappearedinto the house. "Stay where you are, Ingua, " she called from within ina low voice; "I don't want her to escape. "

Josie was even now making her way across the stepping-stones. Presentlyshe ran up the bank, smiling, and plumped down beside Ingua. 

"Top o' the morning to you, " said she. "How did you enjoy your firstevening in society?"

"They were all very good to me, " replied Ingua slowly, looking at herfriend with troubled eyes. "I had a nice time, but--"

"You were a little shy, " said Josie, "but that was only natural. Whenyou get better acquainted with Mary Louise and the dear old Colonel, you'll--"

She stopped abruptly, for looking up she saw standing in the doorwayNan Shelley--by which name she knew her--who was calmly regarding her. The shock of surprise, for shock it surely was, seemed brief, foralmost instantly Josie completed her broken speech:

"When you know them better you'll feel quite at home in their society. Hello, Nan. "

"What! Josie O'Gorman? You here?" with well-affected surprise. 

"You know it. But how came _you_ here, Nan? Has Daddy sent you to helpme?"

"Help you! In what way?"

"Help me enjoy country life, " said Josie, coloring at her slip. 

"Why, I'm on a vacation. You don't seem to understand. I'm--Ingua'smother. "

Josie's self-control wasn't proof against this second shock. Her blueeyes stared amazed. With a low exclamation she stood up and faced thewoman. 

"Ingua's mother! You, Nan?"

"Just so, " with a quiet smile. 

"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself, " declared Josie withrighteous indignation. "You're one of the best paid women in theDepartment, and you've left your poor child here to starve and slavefor a wretched old--, " she paused. 

"Well, what is he?" asked Nan with tantalizing gentleness. 

"An old skinflint, at the least. Shame on you, Nan! Ingua is a dearlittle girl, and you--you're an unnatural mother. Why, I neversuspected you were even married. "

"I'm a widow, Josie. "

"And Old Swallowtail is your father? How strange. But--why did you comehere just now?" with sudden suspicion. 

"I've just finished the Hillyard case and they gave me a vacation. So Icame here to see my little girl. I didn't know she was being neglected, Josie. I shall take better care of her after this. My visit to Cragg'sCrossing is perfectly natural, for I was born here. But you? What areyou up to, Josie?"

"I'm visiting Mary Louise Burrows. "

"With what object?"

A detective must be quick-witted. Josie's brain was working withlightning-like rapidity. In a few brief seconds she comprehended thatif Nan was Old Swallowtail's daughter, home on a vacation, she must notbe allowed to know that Josie was conducting a case against her father. Otherwise she might interfere and spoil everything. She knew Nan of oldand respected her keen intelligence. Once, when they had been pittedagainst each other, Josie had won; but she was not sure she coulddefeat Nan a second time. Therefore it was imperative that old Cragg'sdaughter remain in ignorance of the fact that Josie was awaitingreinforcements from Washington in order to arrest Nan's father as acounterfeiter. Also Josie realized instantly that Ingua was likely totell her mother all she knew about Joselyn, including the story she hadtold Josie; so, without hesitation she answered Nan's question withapparent frankness:

"Really, Nan, I came here on a wild-goose chase. A man named NedJoselyn had mysteriously disappeared and his wife feared he had metwith foul play. I traced him to this place and as Colonel Hathaway andMary Louise were living here--in Mrs. Joselyn's own house, by the way--I had myself invited as their guest. Well, the long and short of it isthat Joselyn isn't murdered, after all. He simply skipped, and since Icame here to worry my poor brain over the fellow he has beendiscovered, still in hiding but very much alive. "

"You suspected my father of killing him?"

"I did; and so did others; but it seems he didn't. But, even with thatprecious bubble burst, Mary Louise insists on my staying for a visit;so here I am, and your little girl has become my friend. "

Ingua knew this story to be quite correct, as far as it regarded hergrandfather and Ned Joselyn. Its straightforward relation renewed herconfidence in Josie. But Nan knew more than Josie thought she did, having intercepted the girl's telegram to her father; so she said witha slight sneer which she took no pains to conceal:

"You're a clever girl, Josie O'Gorman; a mighty clever girl. You're soclever that I wouldn't be surprised if it tripped you, some day, andlanded you on your pug nose. "

Which proved that Nan was _not_ clever, for Josie's indulgent smilemasked the thought: "She knows all and is here to defend her father. Imust look out for Nan, for she has a notion I'm still on the track ofHezekiah Cragg. "

CHAPTER XXIIIPECULIAR PEOPLE

Old Swallowtail came home at about four o'clock in the afternoon. Theday was hot, yet the old man seemed neither heated nor wearied. Withouta word to his daughter or Ingua he drew a chair to the little shadyporch and sat down in their company. Nan was mending her child's oldfrock; Ingua sat thinking. 

For half an hour, perhaps, silence was maintained by all. Then Nanturned and asked:

"Have you covered your tracks?"

He turned his glassy, expressionless eyes toward her. 

"My tracks, as you call them, " said he, "have been laid for forty yearsor more. They are now ruts. I cannot obliterate them in a day. "

The woman studied his face thoughtfully. 

"You are not worrying over your probable arrest?"

"No. "

"Then it's all right, " said she, relieved. "You're a foxy old rascal, Dad, and you've held your own for a good many years. I guess you don'tneed more than a word of warning. "

He made no reply, his eyes wandering along the path to the bridge. MaryLouise was coming their way, walking briskly. Her steps slowed a bit asshe drew nearer, but she said in an eager voice:

"Oh, Mrs. Scammel, Josie has told me you are here and who you are. Isn't it queer how lives get tangled up? But I remember you withgratitude and kindliest thoughts, because you were so considerate of mydear Gran'pa Jim. And to think that you are really Ingua's mother!"

Nan rose and took the girl's hands in her own. 

"I fear I've been a bad mother to my kid, " she replied, "but I thoughtshe was all right with her grandfather and happy here. I shall lookafter her better in the future. "

Mary Louise bowed to Mr. Cragg, who nodded his head in acknowledgment. Then she sat down beside Ingua. 

"Are you plannin' to take me away from here, Mama?" asked the child. 

"Wouldn't you rather be with me than with your grandfather?" returnedNan with a smile. 

"I dunno, " said Ingua seriously. "You're a detective, an' I don't likedetections. You ain't much like a mother to me, neither, ner I don'tknow much about you. I dunno yet whether I'm goin' to like you or not. "

A wave of color swept over Nan's face; Mary Louise was shocked; the oldman turned his inscrutable gaze down the path once more. 

"I like it here, " continued the child, musingly: "Gran'dad makes mework, but he don't bother me none 'cept when the devils get, hold o'him. I 'member that you git the devils, too, once in awhile, Marm, an'they're about as fierce as Gran'dad's is. An' I gets 'em 'cause I'm aCragg like the rest o' you, an' devils seem to be in the Cragg blood. I've a notion it's easier to stand the devils in the country here, thanin the city where you live. "

Nan didn't know whether to be amused or angry. 

"Yet you tried to run away once, " she reminded Ingua, "and it was MaryLouise who stopped you. You told me of this only an hour ago. 

"Didn't I say the devils pick on _me_ sometimes?" demanded the girl. "An' Mary Louise was right. She fought the devils for me, and I'm gladshe did, 'cause I've had a good time with her ever since, " and shepressed Mary Louise's hand gratefully. 

Her child's frankness was indeed humiliating to Nan Scammel, who was byno means a bad woman at heart and longed to win the love and respect ofher little girl. Ingua's frank speech had also disturbed Mary Louise, and made her sorry for both the child and her mother. Old Swallowtail'seyes lingered a moment on Ingua's ingenuous countenance but heexhibited no emotion whatever. 

"You're a simple little innocent, " remarked Nan to Ingua, after astrained pause. "You know so little of the world that your judgment iswholly unformed. I've a notion to take you to Washington and buy you anice outfit of clothes--like those of Mary Louise, you know--and putyou into a first-class girls' boarding-school. Then you'll getcivilized, and perhaps amount to something. "

"I'd like that, " said Ingua, with a first display of enthusiasm; "butwho'd look after Gran'dad?"

"Why, we must provide for Dad in some way, of course, " admitted Nanafter another pause. "I can afford to hire a woman to keep house forhim, if I hold my present job. I suppose he has a hoard of money hiddensomewhere, but that's no reason he wouldn't neglect himself and starveif left alone. And, if he's really poor, I'm the one to help him. Howdoes that arrangement strike you, Ingua?"

"It sounds fine, " replied the girl, "but any woman that'd come _here_to work, an' would stan' Gran'dad's devils, wouldn't amount to much, nohow. If we're goin' to move to the city, " she added with a sigh, "let's take Gran'dad with us. "

This conversation was becoming too personal for Mary Louise to endurelonger. They talked of Mr. Cragg just as if he were not present, ignoring him as he ignored them. With an embarrassed air Mary Louiserose. 

"I must go now, " said she. "I just ran over to welcome you, Mrs. Scammel, and to ask you and Ingua to dine with us to-morrow night. Willyou come? Josie O'Gorman is with us, you know, and I believe you areold friends. "

Nan hesitated a moment. 

"Thank you, " she replied, "we'll be glad to come. You've been mightygood to my little girl and I am grateful. Please give my regards toColonel Hathaway. "

When Mary Louise had gone the three lapsed into silence again. Inguawas considering, in her childish but practical way, the proposedchanges in her life. The mother was trying to conquer her annoyance atthe child's lack of filial affection, tacitly admitting that the blamewas not Ingua's. The old man stared at the path. Whatever his thoughtsmight be he displayed no hint of their nature. 

Presently there appeared at the head of the path, by the bridge, theform of a stranger, a little man who came on with nervous, mincingsteps. He was dressed in dandified fashion, with tall silk hat, agold-headed cane and yellow kid gloves. Almost had he reached theporch when suddenly he stopped short, looked around in surprise andejaculated:

"Bless me--bless me! I--I've made a mistake. This is a private path toyour house. No thoroughfare. Dear me, what an error; an unpardonableerror. I hope you will excuse me--I--I hope so!"

"To be sure we will, " replied Nan with a laugh, curiously eyeing thedapper little man. "The only way out, sir, is back by the bridge. "

"Thank you. Thank you very much, " he said earnestly. "I--I am indulgingin a stroll and--and my mind wandered, as did my feet. I--I am aninvalid in search of rest. Thank you. Good afternoon. "

He turned around and with the same mincing, regular steps retreatedalong the path. At the bridge he halted as if undecided, but finallycontinued along the country road past the Kenton Place. 

Ingua laughed delightedly at the queer man. Nan smiled. Old Swallowtailhad altered neither his position nor his blank expression. 

"He's a queer fish, ain't he?" remarked the girl. "He's pretty livelyfor an invalid what's lookin' for rest. I wonder when he landed, an'where he's stoppin'. "

Something in the child's remark made Nan thoughtful. Presently she laiddown her work and said:

"I believe I'll take a little walk, myself, before dark. Want to goalong, Ingua?"

Ingua was ready. She had on her new dress and hoped they might meetsomeone whom she knew. They wandered toward the town, where most of theinhabitants were sitting outf of doors--a Sunday afternoon custom. JimBennett, in his shirtsleeves, was reading a newspaper in front of thepostoffice; Sol Jerrems and his entire family occupied the platformbefore the store, which was of course locked; Nance Milliker wasplaying the organ in the brown house around the corner, and in front ofthe hotel sat Mary Ann Hopper in her rocking-chair. 

Nan strolled the length of the street, startling those natives who hadformerly known her, Ingua nodded and smiled at everyone. Mary AnnHopper called, as they passed her: "Hullo, Ingua. Where'd ye git thenew duds?"

"Miss Huckins made 'em, " answered Ingua proudly. 

"I guess I'll go and shake hands with Mrs. Hopper, " said Nan. "Don'tyou remember me, Mary Ann? I'm Nan Cragg. "

"Gee! so y'are, " exclaimed Mary Ann wonderingly. "We all 'spicioned youwas dead, long ago. "

"I'm home for a visit. You folks seem prosperous. How's business?"

"Pretty good. We got a new boarder to-day, a feller with bum nerves whocome from the city. Gee! but he's togged out t' kill. Got money, too, an' ain't afraid to spend it. He paid Dad in advance. "

"That's nice, " said Nan. "What's his name?"

"It's a funny name, but I can't remember it. Ye kin see it on theregister. "

Nan went inside, leaving Ingua with Mary Ann, and studied the name onthe register long and closely. 

"No, " she finally decided, "Lysander isn't calculated to arousesuspicion. He wears a wig, I know, but that is doubtless due to vanityand not a disguise. I at first imagined it was someone O'Gorman hadsent down here to help Josie, but none of our boys would undertake sucha spectacular personation, bound to attract attention. This fellow willbecome the laughing-stock of the whole town and every move he makeswill be observed. I'm quite sure there is nothing dangerous in theappearance here of Mr. Lysander Antonius Sinclair. "

She chatted a few minutes with Mrs. Hopper, whom she found in thekitchen, and then she rejoined Ingua and started homeward. Scarcelywere mother and child out of sight when Mr. Sinclair came mincing alongfrom an opposite direction and entered the hotel. He went to his roombut soon came down and in a querulous voice demanded his omelet, thanking the landlady again and again for promising it in ten minutes. 

He amused them all very much, stating that an omelet for an eveningmeal was "an effective corrective of tired nerves" and would enable himto sleep soundly all night. 

"I sleep a great deal, " he announced after he had finished his supperand joined Mr. Hopper on the porch. "When I have smoked a cigar--inwhich luxury I hope you will join me, sir--I shall retire to my couchand rest in the arms of Morpheus until the brilliant sun of another dayfloods the countryside. "

"P'r'aps it'll rain, " suggested the landlord. 

"Then Nature's tears will render us sweetly sympathetic. "

He offered his cigar case to Mr. Hopper, who recognized a high pricedcigar and helped himself. 

"Didn't see anything to make ye nervous, durin' yer walk, did ye?" heinquired, lighting the weed. 

"Very little. It seems a nice, quiet place. Only once was I annoyed. Istumbled into a private path, just before I reached the river, and--andhad to apologize. "

"Must 'a' struck Ol' Swallertail's place, " remarked the landlord. 

"Old Swallowtail? Old Swallowtail? And who is he?" queried thestranger. 

Hopper was a born gossip, and if there was any one person he loved totalk of and criticize and "pick to pieces" it was Old Swallowtail. Sohe rambled on for a half hour, relating the Cragg history in all itsdetails, including the story of Ingua and Ingua's mother, Nan Cragg, who had married some unknown chap named Scammel, who did not longsurvive the ceremony. 

Mr. Sinclair listened quietly, seeming to enjoy his cigar more than hedid the Cragg gossip. He asked no questions, letting the landlordramble on as he would, and finally, when Hopper had exhausted his fundof fact and fiction, which were about evenly mixed, his guest bade himgood night and retired to his private room. 

"It ain't eight o'clock, yet, " said the landlord to his wife, "but afeller with nerves is best asleep. An' when he's asleep he won't wasteour kerosene. "

No, Mr. Sinclair didn't waste the Hopper kerosene. He had a littlepocket arrangement which supplied him with light when, an hour beforemidnight, he silently rose, dressed himself and prepared to leave thehotel. He was not attired in what Mary Ann called his "glad rags" now, but in a dark gray suit of homespun that was nearly the color of thenight. The blond wig was carefully locked in a suit case, a small blackcap was drawn over his eyes, and thus--completely transformed--Mr. Hopper's guest had no difficulty in gaining the street without aparticle of noise betraying him to the family of his host. 

He went to the postoffice, pried open a window, unlocked the mail bagthat was ready for Jim Bennett to carry to the morning train atChargrove and from it abstracted a number of letters which he unsealedand read with great care. They had all been written and posted byHezekiah Cragg. The man spent a couple of hours here, resealing theenvelopes neatly and restoring them to the mail bag, after which, heattached the padlock and replaced the bag in exactly its formerposition. When he had left the little front room which was devoted bythe Bennetts to the mail service, the only evidence of his visit was abruised depression beside the window-sash which was quite likely toescape detection. 

After this the stranger crept through the town and set off at a briskpace toward the west, taking the road over the bridge and following itto the connecting branch and thence to the lane. A half hour later hewas standing in old Cragg's stone lot and another hour was consumedamong the huge stones by the hillside--the place where Josie haddiscovered the entrance to the underground cave. Mr. Sinclair did notdiscover the entrance, however, so finally he returned to town andmounted the stairs beside Sol Jerrem's store building to the upperhallway. 

In five minutes he was inside of Cragg's outer office; in another fiveminutes he had entered the inner office. There he remained until theunmistakable herald of dawn warned him to be going. However, when heleft the building there was no visible evidence of his visit. He was inhis own room and in bed long before Mrs. Hopper gave a final snore andwakened to light the kitchen fire and prepare for the duties of theday. 

CHAPTER XXIVFACING DANGER

Nan's presence at Cragg's Crossing rendered Josie O'Gorman uneasy. Shehad the Cragg case so well in hand, now, and the evidence in herpossession was so positively incriminating, in her judgment, that shedid not like to be balked by a clever female detective from herfather's own office. She had little doubt but Nan would do all in herpower to save old Hezekiah Cragg from the penalty of his misdeeds, andher greatest fear was that he might utterly disappear before O'Gormansent her assistance. 

With this fear growing in her mind, on Monday she determined to sendanother telegram to her father, urging haste, so she obtainedpermission from the Colonel to have Uncle Eben drive her and MaryLouise to the city, there being no telegraph office at ChargroveStation. But she timed the trip when no trains would stop at Chargroveduring her absence and at the telegraph office she sent an imperativemessage to John O'Gorman at Washington demanding instant help. Sinceall counterfeiting cases belonged distinctly to the Secret ServiceDepartment she had little doubt her father would respond as soon as theaffairs at the office would permit him to do so. But the delay wasexasperating, nevertheless. Indeed, Josie was so sure that the crisisof her case was imminent that she determined to watch old Cragg's houseevery night until his arrest could be made. If he attempted to escapeshe would arrest him herself, with the aid of the little revolver shecarried in her dress pocket. 

On their return journey they overtook Mr. Sinclair at about a mile fromthe Crossing. They had never seen the man before, but when he signaledthem. Uncle Eben slowed up the machine and stopped beside him. 

"I beg a thousand pardons, " said the dapper little stranger, removinghis silk hat and bowing profoundly to the two girls, "but would youmind taking me to the town? I--I--fear I have turned my ankle; notseriously, you know, but it is uncomfortable; so if I may sit besideyour chauffeur the favor will be greatly appreciated. "

"To be sure, " said Mary Louise with ready. "Can you get in unaided, ordo you wish Uncle Eben to assist you?"

"Thank you; thank you a thousand times, young lady, " said he, climbinginto the front seat. "I'm stopping at the hotel, " he explained, as thecar again started, "for rest and quiet, because of my nervouscondition. My doctor said I would suffer a nervous breakdown if I didnot seek rest and quiet in the seclusion of some country village. So Icame here, and--it's secluded; it really is. "

"I hope your ankle is not seriously injured, sir, " said Mary Louise. "Take the gentleman to the hotel, Uncle Eben. "

"Thank you, " said the little man, and fussily removing a card-case froman inner pocket he added: "My card, please, " and handed it to MaryLouise. 

Josie glanced at the card, too. She had been regarding the strangerthoughtfully, with the same suspicions of him that Nan had formerlyentertained. The card was not printed; it was engraved: one point inthe man's favor. His blond hair was a wig; she had a good view of theback of it and was not to be deceived. But perhaps the moustache, whichmatched the hair, was genuine. Carefully considering the matter, shedid not think anyone would come to Cragg's Crossing in disguise unlesshe were a confederate of Hezekiah Cragg, helping to circulate thecounterfeit money. This odd Mr. Sinclair might be such a person andworking under the direction of Ned Joselyn. Joselyn was in hiding, forsome unexplained reason; Sinclair could appear openly. There might benothing in this supposition but Josie determined to keep an eye on thenervous stranger. 

He was profuse in his thanks when they let him out at Hopper's Hoteland Uncle Eben chuckled all the way home. 

"Dat man am shuah some mighty 'stravagant punkins, in he's own mind, "he remarked. "He oughteh git he's pictur' took in dat outfit, Ma'yWeeze, jes' to show how 'dic'lous a white man can look. He'll have allde kids in town a-chasin' of him, if he gits loose on de streets. Allhe needs is a brass ban' to be a circus parade. "

Nan and Ingua came over to dinner that evening and Josie was verycordial to Ingua's mother, who treated her chief's daughter with theutmost friendliness. Both Ingua and Mary Louise were surprised by theirpoliteness and comradeship, but neither of the principals was deceivedby such a display. Each was on her guard, but realized it was wise toappear friendly. 

Monday night Josie lurked in the shadows of the river bank untildaybreak, never relaxing her espionage of the Cragg house for a moment. All was quiet, however. 

Tuesday passed without event. Tuesday night Josie was at her postagain, her eyes fixed on the dim light that shone from Mr. Cragg'sroom. Had she been able to see through the walls of the cottage shewould have found the old man seated in his private apartment oppositehis daughter. Could she have heard their conversation--the low, continuous hum of Old Swallowtail's voice, broken only by an occasionalquestion from Nan--she would surely have been astonished. Nan was notmuch astonished, save at the fact that her father had at lastvoluntarily confided to her the strange story of his life, a lifehitherto unknown to her. She was not easily surprised, but she wasgreatly impressed, and when he finally rose from his chair and went outinto the night Nan sat in meditation for some time before she followedhim. Ingua had long been asleep. 

Josie, lurking outside, had not expected Old Swallowtail to leave thepremises unless he planned to run away. His delivery of counterfeitmoney to Ned Joselyn had been of too recent a date to render itnecessary that he revisit his stone-yard for some time to come, sheargued; yet to-night, at a little after eleven o'clock, she saw hisshadow pass from the house and take the path to the bridge. 

Josie followed. At the bridge Mr. Cragg turned westward and at once shesurmised he was bound for his rocky five acres. The old man walkeddeliberately, never thinking to look behind him. He might not haveobserved anything suspicious had he turned, but a hundred feet behindhim came Josie O'Gorman, deftly dodging from tree to bush to keep inthe dark places by the wayside. And behind Josie silently moved alittle man in gray homespun, whose form it would be difficult todistinguish even while he stood in the open. Josie, like the prey shestalked, was too occupied to look behind. 

Old Swallowtail reached the stone-yard and climbed the fence. While hepaused there Josie crept close and noticed a light which suddenlyflashed from the hillside. It was a momentary flash and not verybrilliant, but she knew it was a signal because the old man at oncestarted forward. She let him lead on until he disappeared among therocks and then she boldly followed. She knew now where the secretentrance to the cavern was located. 

Threading her way cautiously through the maze of rocks the girl finallyreached a slanting shelf beneath which she crept on hands and knees. Atits farthest edge was a square door of solid oak, rather crudelyconstructed but thick and substantial. This door stood ajar. 

Josie, crouching beside the secret entrance, wondered what she ought todo. The regular thumping, as of machinery, which she had heard oncebefore, now began and continued without interruption. Here was anopportunity to catch the counterfeiters redhanded, but she was onesmall girl as opposed to a gang of desperate criminals. 

"Oh, dear!" she whispered, half aloud, "I wish father had paid someattention to my telegram. "

"He did, " responded a soft voice beside her. 

CHAPTER XXVFATHER AND DAUGHTER

The girl would have screamed had not a hand been swiftly laid acrossher lips to stifle the sound. She tried to rise, but the shelf of rockbeneath which she crouched prevented her. However, she struggled untilan arm was passed firmly around her waist and a stern voice saidwarningly:

"Josie! Control yourself. "

Instantly her form relaxed and became inert. She breathed hard and herheart still raced, but she was no longer afraid. 

"Kiss me, Daddy!" she whispered, and the man obeyed with a chuckle ofdelight. 

There was silence for a time, while she collected herself. Then sheasked in a businesslike tone:

"When did you get here?"

"Sunday, " said he. 

"Good gracious! You must have caught the first train after getting mywire. "

"I did. A certain gang of unknown counterfeiters has been puzzling me agood deal lately, and I fancied you had located the rascals. "

"I have, " said Josie exultantly. 

"Where?" he asked. 

"The rascals are down below us this very minute, Daddy. They are at ourmercy. "

"Old Cragg and Jim Bennett?"

"Yes; and perhaps others. "

"M-m-m, " mumbled O'Gorman, "you've a lot to learn yet, Josie. You'requick; you're persevering; you're courageous. But you lack judgment. "

"Do you mean that you doubt my evidence?" she asked indignantly. 

"I do. "

"I've the counterfeit bill here in my pocket, which Cragg tried to passon the storekeeper, " she said. 

"Let me see it. "

Josie searched and found the bill. O'Gorman flashed a circle of lighton it and studied it attentively. 

"Here, " he said, passing it back to her. "Don't lose it, Josie. It'sworth ten dollars. "

"Isn't it counterfeit?" she asked, trying to swallow a big lump thatrose in her throat. 

"It is one of the recent issues, good as gold. "

She sat silent, rigid with disappointment. Never had she been asmiserable as at this moment. She felt like crying, and a sob really didbecome audible in spite of her effort to suppress it. Again O'Gormanpassed his arm affectionately around her waist and held her close whileshe tried to think what it all meant. 

"Was that bill your only basis of suspicion, dear?" he presentlyinquired. 

"No, indeed. Do you hear that noise? What are they doing down there?"

"I imagine they are running a printing press, " he replied. 

"Exactly!" she said triumphantly. "And why do these men operate aprinting press in a secret cavern, unless they are printing counterfeitmoney?"

"Ah, there you have allowed your imagination to jump, " returned herfather. "Haven't I warned you against the danger of imagination? Itleads to theory, and theory leads--nine times in ten--to failure. "

"Circumstantial evidence is often valuable, " declared Josie. 

"It often convicts, " he admitted, "but I am never sure of its justice. Whenever facts are obtainable, I prefer facts. "

"Can you explain, " she said somewhat coldly, for she felt she wassuffering a professional rebuke, "what those men below us are printing, if not counterfeit money?"

"I can, " said he. 

"And you have been down there, investigating?"

"Not yet, " he answered coolly. 

"Then _you_ must be theorizing, Daddy. "

"Not at all. If you know you have two marbles in one pocket and twomore in another pocket, you may be positive there are four altogether, whether you bother to count them individually or not. "

She pondered this, trying to understand what he meant. 

"You don't know old Cragg as well as I do, " she asserted. 

"Let us argue that point, " he said quickly. "What do you know abouthim?"

"I know him to be an eccentric old man, educated and shrewd, with acruel and murderous temper; I know that he has secluded himself in thishalf-forgotten town for many years, engaged in some secret occupationwhich he fears to have discovered. I am sure that he is capable of anycrime and therefore--even if that bill is good--I am none the lesspositive that counterfeiting is his business. No other supposition fitsthe facts in the case. "

"Is that all you know about old Cragg?" asked O'Gorman. 

"Isn't it enough to warrant his arrest?" she retorted. 

"Not quite. You've forgotten to mention one thing among hischaracteristics, Josie. "

"What is that?"

"Cragg is an Irishman--just as I am. "

"What has that to do with it?"

"Only this: his sympathies have always been interested in behalf of hisdowntrodden countrymen. I won't admit that they _are_ downtrodden, Josie, even to you; but Cragg thinks they are. His father was anemigrant and Hezekiah was himself born in Dublin and came to thiscountry while an infant. He imagines he is Irish yet. Perhaps he is. "

There was a note of bewilderment in the girl's voice as she asked:

"What has his sympathy for the Irish to do with this case?"

"Hezekiah Cragg, " explained O'Gorman, speaking slowly, "is at the headof an organization known as the 'Champions of Irish Liberty. ' For manyyears this C. I. L. Fraternity has been growing in numbers and power, fed by money largely supplied by Cragg himself. I have proof, indeed, that he has devoted his entire fortune to this cause, as well as allreturns from his business enterprises. He lives in comparative povertythat the Champions of Irish Liberty may finally perfect their plans tofree Ireland and allow the Irish to establish a self-governingrepublic. "

"But--why all this secrecy, Daddy?" she asked wonderingly. 

"His work here is a violation of neutrality; it is contrary to thetreaty between our country and England. According to our laws HezekiahCragg and his followers, in seeking to deprive England of her Irishpossession, are guilty of treason. "

"Could he be prosecuted for sympathizing with his own race?"

"No; for sending them arms and ammunition to fight with, yes. And thatis what they have been doing. "

"Then you can arrest him for this act?"

"I can, " said O'Gorman, "but I'll be hanged if I will, Josie. Cragg isan idealist; the cause to which he has devoted his life and fortunewith a steadfast loyalty that is worthy of respect, is doomed tofailure. The man's every thought is concentrated on his futile schemeand to oppose him at this juncture would drive him mad. He isn't doingany real harm to our country and even England won't suffer much throughhis conspiracy. But, allowing for the folly of his attempt to make hispeople free and independent, we must admire his lofty philanthropy, hisself-sacrifice, his dogged perseverence in promoting the cause so nearand dear to his heart. Let some other federal officer arrest him, if hedares; it's no work for an O'Gorman. "

Josie had encountered many surprises during her brief career as anembryo detective, but this revelation was the crowning astonishment ofher life. All her carefully prepared theories concerning Hezekiah Cragghad been shattered by her father's terse disclosure and instead ofhating Old Swallowtail she suddenly found sympathy for his idealswelling in her heart. Josie O 'Gorman was Irish, too. 

She pondered deeply the skilled detective's assertions and tried to fitthem to her knowledge of old Cragg's character. The story seemed toaccount for much, but not all. After a time she said:

"But this mysterious business of his, which causes him to write so manyletters and to receive so many answers to them--what connection can ithave with the Champions of Irish Liberty?"

"Very little, " said her father, "except that it enables Cragg to earnmore money to feed into the ever-hungry maw of the Cause. Cragg's'business' is one of the most unique things of the sort that I haveever encountered. And, while it is quite legitimate, he is obliged tokeep it secret so as not to involve his many customers in adversecriticism. "

"What on earth can it be?"

"It pertains to heaven, not earth, my dear, " said O'Gorman dryly. "Cragg was educated for the ministry or the priesthood--I can'tdiscover whether he was Catholic or Protestant--but it seems he wasn'tfitted for the church. Perhaps he already had in mind the idea ofdevoting his life to the land that gave him birth. Anyhow, he was awell versed theologian, and exceptionally brilliant in theses, so whenhis money gave out he began writing sermons for others to preach, doinga mail-order business and selling his products to those preachers whoare too busy or too lazy to write their own sermons. He has a sort ofsyndicate established and his books, which I have examined withadmiration and wonder, prove he supplies sermons to preachers of alldenominations throughout the United States. This involves a lot ofcorrespondence. Every week he writes a new sermon, prints a largenumber of copies and sends one to each of his clients. Of course hefurnishes but one man in a town or city with his products, but thereare a good many towns and cities to supply. "

"Is he printing sermons now?" asked Josie. 

"Perhaps so; or it may be he is printing some circular to bedistributed to the members of the C. I. L. Jim Bennett, the husband ofthe postmistress here, was once a practical printer, and he is astaunch member of the Irish fraternity. Cragg has known of thisunderground cavern for years, and at one time it was a regularmeeting-place for his order of Champions. So he bought a printingpress and, to avoid the prying eyes of his neighbors, established ithere. That is the whole story of Cragg's 'crime, ' Josie, and it isvery simple when once fully explained. "

"Do you mean to say you've discovered all this in the two days sinceyou've been here?" asked the girl, in amazement. 

"Every bit of it. I came prepared to arrest a gang of counterfeiters, and stumbled on this very interesting but quite harmless plot. "

"Where have you been hiding since Sunday?" she inquired. 

"Why, I didn't hide at all, " he asserted. "Don't you remember giving mea ride yesterday in the Hathaway automobile?"

Josie sat silent. She was glad it was so dark under that shelf of rock, for she would rather her father did not read her humiliation andself-reproach. 

"Daddy, " she said, with a despairing accent, "I'm going to study to bea cook or a stenographer. I'll never make a decent detective--like Nan, for instance. "

O'Gorman laughed. 

"Poor Nan!" he exclaimed. "She's been more befuddled than you over thismysterious case. And Cragg is her own father, too. Come, Josie, it'sgetting late; let's go home. "

CHAPTER XXVITHE PLOT

When they were over the stones and in the lane again, walking arm inarm toward the village, Josie's logical mind turned from her ownfailure to a consideration of the story her father had just told her. 

"I can't understand, " she remarked, "how Joselyn came into this affair, what happened to him, or why he is once more the secret associate ofold Cragg. "

"Joselyn, " said the old detective, "is a clever grafter--in otherwords, an unmitigated scoundrel. Now do you understand?"

"Not quite, " confessed Josie. 

"He's Irish. "

"Isn't his name Scotch?"

"Yes, but Joselyn isn't his name. If you're inclined to pick up hisrecord and follow it through, you'll probably find him pursuing hisvarious adventures under many aliases. He doesn't belong in thiscountry, you know, has only been here a few years, so his adventureswould probably cover two continents. The fellow always manages to keepjust within our laws, although sometimes he gets dangerously near theedge. The world is full of men like Joselyn. They don't interest me. "

"Then he belongs to the band of Champions?" asked Josie. 

"Yes. In going over Cragg's books and papers in his private office theother night, I found sufficient references to Ned Joselyn to figure outhis story with a fair degree of accuracy, " said O'Gorman. "He was bornin Ireland, got into trouble over there with the authorities, and fledto America, where he met Annabel Kenton and married her. Getting intouch with Old Swallowtail, he joined the Champions and attended to theoutside business for Mr. Cragg, purchasing supplies and forwardingthem, with money, to the patriots in Ireland. I suppose he made a fairrake-off in all these dealings, but that did not satisfy him. Heinduced Cragg to invest in some wild-cat schemes, promising himtremendous earnings which could be applied to the Cause. Whether hereally invested the money turned over to him, or kept it for himself, is a subject for doubt, but it seems that the old man soon suspectedhim of double-dealing and they had so many quarrels that Cragg finallythreatened to turn him over to the authorities for extradition. Thatwas when our precious Ned thought it wise to disappear, but afterwardanother peace was patched up, owing largely to the fact that Joselynknew so much of the workings of the secret order that it was safer tohave him for a friend than an enemy. "

"I'm thinking of his poor wife, " said Josie. "Does she know now whereher husband is?"

"I think not. At first, in order to win the confidence of old Cragg, Ned applied considerable of his wife's money to the Cause, and whileshe would probably forgive his defalcations he thinks it wiser to keepaloof from her. She foolishly trusted him to 'settle' her mother'sestate, and I'm sure he managed to settle most of it on himself. Hisvalue to Cragg lay in his ability to visit the different branches ofthe Champions, which are pretty well scattered throughout the UnitedStates, and keep them in touch one with the other. Also he purchasedarms and ammunition to be forwarded secretly to Ireland. So you see itwas quite impossible for the old man to break with him wholly, rascalthough he knows him to be. "

"I see, " said Josie. "Joselyn has him in his power. "

"Entirely so. A hint from him to the authorities would result in anembargo on any further shipments to the rebels in Ireland and socompletely ruin the usefulness of the order of Champions. The fellowseems to be a thorn deeply embedded in the side of Old Swallowtail, whowill suffer anything to promote the cause of Irish liberty. "

"Ingua thinks her grandfather tried to kill Ned, at one time, " remarkedthe girl. 

"It's a wonder, with his rabid temper, that he didn't do so, " saidO'Gorman. "But perhaps he realized that if he was hanged for Joselyn'smurder his beloved Order would be without a head and in sorry straits. Thousands of Irishmen are feeding the funds of the Champions, asidefrom what Cragg himself dumps into the pot. So the old fellow is in aresponsible position and mustn't commit murder, however much he maylong to, because it would jeopardize the fortunes of his associates. However, the end is not yet, and unless Joselyn acts square in hisfuture dealings he may yet meet with a tragic fate. "

"I wonder what was in that package he took away with him the othernight?" mused Josie. "I was sure, at the time, it was counterfeitmoney. "

"It probably contained the monthly printed circular to the variousbranches of the order. Jim Bennett prints them in that undergroundcavern and Ned Joselyn sees they are distributed. "

"Well, " said Josie with a sigh, "you've pricked my bubble, Daddy, andmade me ashamed. With all my professed scorn of theories, and myendeavors to avoid them, I walked straight into the theoretic mire andstuck there. "

O'Gorman pressed her arm affectionately. 

"Never you mind, my dear, " in a consoling tone; "you have learned alesson that will be of great value to you in your future work. I darenot blame you, indeed, for I myself, on the evidence you sent me, camerushing here on a wild-goose chase. One never knows what is on theother side of a page till he turns it, and if we detectives didn't haveto turn so many pages, only to find them blank, we'd soon rid thecountry of its malefactors. But here we are at the Kenton gateway. Goto bed, Josie dear, and pleasant dreams to you. "

"Will I see you again?" she asked. 

"No; I'm off by the early train. But you must stay here and have yourvisit out with Mary Louise. It won't hurt you to have a free mind forawhile. "

He kissed her tenderly and she went in. 

CHAPTER XXVIINAN'S TRIUMPH

The night's events were not yet ended. An automobile left the edge ofthe stone-yard, followed a lane and turned into the main highway, whereit encountered a woman standing in the middle of the road and wavingher arms. She was distinctly visible in the moonlight. 

The man with the monocle slowed the car and came to a sudden stop, rather than run her down. 

"What's the matter?" he demanded impatiently. 

"Wait a minute; I want to talk to you. "

"Can't stop, " he replied in a querulous tone. "I've got fifty miles tomake before daylight. Out of my way, woman. "

With a dexterous motion she opened the door and sprang into the seatbeside him. 

"Here! Get out of this, " he cried. 

"Drive on, " she said calmly. "It'll save time, since you're in ahurry. "

"Get out!"

"I'm going to ride with you. Why bother to argue?"

He turned nervously in his seat to get a look at her, then shifted theclutch and slowly started the car. The woman sat quiet. While bumpingover the uneven road at a reckless speed the driver turned at times tocast stealthy glances at the person beside him. Finally he asked inexasperation:

"Do you know where I'm going?"

"You haven't told me. "

"Do you know who I am?"

"How should I?"

"Oh, very well, " with a sigh of relief. "But isn't this rather--er--irregular?"

"Very. "

Again he drove for a time in silence. In the direction they werefollowing they whirled by a village every three or four miles, but thecountry roads were deserted and the nearest city of any size lay a goodfifty miles on. 

"I don't know who you are, " observed the woman presently, "but I canhazard a guess. You call yourself Joselyn--Ned Joselyn--but that isn'tyour name. It's the name you married Annabel Kenton under, but itdoesn't belong to you. "

He gave a roar of anger and started to slow down the car. 

"Go ahead!" she said imperatively. 

"I won't. You're going to get out of here, and lively, too, or I'llthrow you out. "

"Do you feel anything against your side?" she asked coolly. 

"Yes, " with a sudden start. 

"It's the muzzle of a revolver. I think it's about opposite your heartand my finger is on the trigger. Go ahead!"

He turned the throttle and the car resumed its former speed. 

"Who the deuce are you?" he demanded, in a voice that trembledslightly. 

"Like yourself, I have many names, " she said. "In Washington they callme Nan Shelley; at Cragg's Crossing I'm Mrs. Scammel, formerly NanCragg. "

"Oh--ho!" with a low whistle of astonishment. "Nan Cragg, eh! So you'vereturned from your wanderings, have you?" with a derisive sneer. 

"For a time. But in wandering around I've found my place in the worldand I'm now a lady detective, not an especially high-class occupationbut satisfactory as a bread-winner. I find I'm quite talented; I'm saidto be a pretty fair detective. "

She could feel him tremble beside her. He moved away from her as far ashe could but the pressure against his side followed his movements. After a time he asked defiantly:

"Well, being a detective, what's your business with me? I hope you'renot fool enough to think I'm a criminal. "

"I don't think it; I know it. You're an unusual sort of a criminal, too, " she replied. "You're mixed up in a somewhat lawless internationalplot, but it isn't my present business to bring you to book for that. "

"What _is_ your present business?"

"To discover what you've done with my father's money. "

He laughed, as if relieved. 

"Spent it for the cause of Ireland. "

"Part of it, perhaps. But the bulk of the money you've taken from theChampions of Irish Liberty, most of which came out of my father's ownpocket, and practically all the money he gave you to invest for him, you have withheld for your own use. "

"You're crazy!"

"I know the bank it's deposited in. "

Again he growled, like a beast at bay. 

"Whatever I have on deposit is to be applied to the Cause, " said he. "It's reserved for future promotion. "

"Have you seen to-day's papers?" she inquired. 

"No. "

"The revolution in Ireland has already broken out. "

"Great Scott!" There was sincere anxiety in his voice now. 

"It is premature, and will result in the annihilation of all yourplans. "

"Perhaps not. "

"You know better, " said she. "Anyhow, your actions are now blockeduntil we see how the rebellion fares. The Irish will have no furtheruse for American money, I'm positive, so I insist that my fatherreceive back the funds he has advanced you, and especially his ownmoney which he gave you to invest and you never invested. "

"Bah! If I offered him the money he wouldn't take it. 

"Then I'll take it for him, " she asserted. "You'll give up that moneybecause you know I can have you arrested for--well, let us say a breachof American neutrality. You are not a citizen of the United States. Youwere born in Ireland and have never been naturalized here. "

"You seem well posted, " he sneered. 

"I belong to the Government Secret Service, and the Bureau knowsconsiderable, " she replied dryly. 

He remained silent for a time, his eyes fixed upon the road ahead. Thenhe said:

"The Government didn't send you to get Cragg's money away from me. Nordid Cragg send you. "

"No, my father is afraid of you. He has been forced to trust you evenwhen he knew you were a treacherous defaulter, because of your threatsto betray the Cause. But you've been playing a dangerous game and Ibelieve my father would have killed you, long ago, if--"

"Well, if what?"

"If you hadn't been his own nephew. "

He turned upon her with sudden fierceness. 

"Look out!" she called. "I've not the same objection to killing mycousin. "

"Your cousin!"

"To be sure. You are the son of Peter Cragg, my father's brother, whoreturned to Ireland many years ago, when he was a young man. NedJoselyn is an assumed name; you are Ned Cragg, condemned by the Britishgovernment for high treason. You are known to be in America, but only Iknew where to find you. "

"Oh, you knew, did you?"

"Yes; all your various hiding-places are well known to me. "

"Confound you!"

"Exactly. You'd like to murder me, Cousin Ned, to stop my mouth, butI'll not give you the chance. And, really, we ought not to kill oneanother, for the Cragg motto is 'a Cragg for a Cragg. ' That hasprobably influenced my poor father more than anything else in hisdealings with you. He knew you are a Cragg. "

"Well, if I'm a Cragg, and you're a Cragg, why don't you let me alone?"

"Because the family motto was first ignored by yourself. "

For a long time he drove on without another word. Evidently he was indeep thought and the constant pressure of the revolver against his sidegave him ample food for reflection. Nan was thinking, too, quietlyexulting, the while. As a matter of fact she had hazarded guess afterguess, during the interview, only to find she had hit the mark. Sheknew that Ned Cragg had been condemned by the British government andwas supposed to have escaped to America, but not until now was she sureof his identity with Ned Joselyn. Her father had told her much, but notthis. Her native shrewdness was alone responsible for the discovery. 

"We're almost there, aren't we?" asked Nan at last. 

"Where?"

"At the house where you're at present hiding. We've entered the city, Isee, and it's almost daybreak. "

"Well?"

"I know the Chief of Police here. Am I to have that, money, Cousin Ned, or--"

"Of course, " he said hastily. 

CHAPTER XXVIIIPLANNING THE FUTURE

It was nearly a month later when Mary Louise, walking down to the riveron an afternoon, discovered Ingua sitting on the opposite bank andlistlessly throwing pebbles into the stream. She ran across thestepping-stones and joined her little friend. 

"How is your grandfather this morning?" she asked. 

"I guess he's better, " said Ingua. "He don't mumble so much about theLost Cause or the poor men who died for it in Ireland, but Ma says hisbroken heart will never mend. He's awful changed, Mary Louise. To-day, when I set beside him, he put out his hand an' stroked my hair an'said: 'poor child--poor child, you've been neglected. After all, ' sayshe, 'one's duties begin at home. ' He hasn't had any fits of the devilslately, either. Seems like he's all broke up, you know. "

"Can he walk yet?" inquired Mary Louise. 

"Yes, he's gett'n' stronger ev'ry day. This mornin' he walked to thebridge an' back, but he was ruther wobbly on his legs. Ma said shewouldn't have left him, just now, if she wasn't sure he'd pick up. "

"Oh. Has your mother gone away, then?"

"Left last night, " said Ingua, "for Washington. "

"Is her vacation over?"

"It isn't that, " replied the child. "Ma isn't going to work any more, just now. Says she's goin' to take care o' Gran'dad. She went toWashington because she got a telegram saying that Senator Ingua isdead. "

"Senator Ingua?"

"Yes; he was my godfather, you see. I didn't know it myself till Matold me last night. He was an uncle of Will Scammel, my father thatdied, but he wasn't very friendly to him an' didn't give him any moneywhile he lived. Ma named me after the Senator, though, 'cause she knewwhich side her bread was buttered on, an' now he's left me ten thousanddollars in his will. "

"Ten thousand!" exclaimed Mary Louise, delightedly, "why, you Craggsare going to be rich, Ingua. What with all the money your mother gotback from Ned Joselyn and this legacy, you will never suffer povertyagain. "

"That's what Ma says, " returned the child, simply. "But I dunno whetherI'll like all the changes Ma's planned, or not. When she gets back fromWashington she's goin' to take me an' Gran'dad away somewheres for thewinter, an' I'm to go to a girls' school. "

"Oh, that will be nice. "

"Will it, Mary Louise? I ain't sure. And while we're gone they're goin'to tear down the old shack an' build a fine new house in its place, an'fix up the grounds so's they're just as good as the Kenton Place. "

"Then your mother intends to live here always?"

"Yes. She says a Cragg's place is at Cragg's Crossing, and the fambly'sgoin' to hold up its head ag'in, an' we're to be some punkins aroundhere. But--I sorter hate to see the old place go, Mary Louise, " turninga regretful glance at the ancient cottage from over her shoulder. 

"I can understand that, dear, " said the other girl, thoughtfully; "butI am sure the change will be for the best. Do you know what has, becomeof Ned Joselyn?"

"Yes; he an' Annabel Kenton--that's his wife--have gone away somewherestogether; somewheres out West, Ma says. He didn't squander Ann's money, it seems; not all of it, anyhow; didn't hev time, I s'pose, he was sobusy robbin' Gran'dad. Ned run away from Ann, that time he disappeared, 'cause English spies was on his tracks an' he didn't want to be tookpris'ner. That was why he kep' in hidin' an' didn't let Ann know wherehe was. He was afraid she'd git rattled an' blab. "

"Oh; I think I understand. But he will have to keep in hiding always, won't he?"

"I s'pose so. Ma says that'll suit _her, _ all right. Am I talkin' moredecent than I used to, Mary Louise?"

"You're improving every day, Ingua. "

"I'm tryin' to be like you, you know. Ma says I've been a little Arab, but she means to make a lady of me. I hope she will. And then--"

"Well, Ingua?"

"You'll come to visit me, some time, in our new house; won't you?"

"I sure will, dear, " promised Mary Louise.