THE BRASS BOUND BOX

BY EVELYN RAYMOND

AUTHOR OF "THE DOINGS OF NANCY, " "MIXED PICKLES, " "MY LADY BAREFOOT"

ILLUSTRATED BY DIANTHA W. HORNE

[Illustration]

BOSTON DANA ESTES &COMPANY PUBLISHERS

_Copyright, 1905_BY DANA ESTES & COMPANY

_All rights reserved_

THE BRASS BOUND BOX

_COLONIAL PRESSElectrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. Boston, Mass. , U. S. A. _

[Illustration: "AT LAST IT WAS OUT"]

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. LEGACY AND LEGATEE 11

II. MASTER MONTGOMERY STURTEVANT 25

III. WHY MONTY DID NOT GO A-FISHING 40

IV. FOXES' GULLY 50

V. CHESTNUTS AND GOLD MINES 64

VI. THE BRASS BOUND BOX 82

VII. THE GRIT OF MOSES JONES 95

VIII. HAY-LOFT DREAMS 110

IX. SQUIRE PETTIJOHN 126

X. ALFARETTA'S PERPLEXITY 142

XI. THE FACE IN THE DARKNESS 154

XII. A STURTEVANT--PERFORCE 168

XIII. BUT--STURTEVANT TO THE RESCUE 187

XIV. ON A SATURDAY AFTERNOON 203

XV. BY THE OLD STONE BRIDGE 220

XVI. THE COTTAGE IN THE WOOD 234

XVII. A SELF-ELECTED CONSTABLE 248

XVIII. REUBEN SMITH, ACCESSORY 263

XIX. WHAT THE MOON SAW IN THE CORNFIELD 278

XX. UNINVITED GUESTS 292

XXI. A NEIGHBORLY TRICK OF THE WIND 310

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

 PAGE

"AT LAST IT WAS OUT" (See page 81). Frontispiece

"He now lay stretched upon his owner's lap as she still sat on the floor" 27

"'I feel so queer every little spell, an' I must get home'" 97

"There, all anxiety forgotten, they dreamed dreams and saw visions" 120

"Ma'am Puss extracted her own supper in advance of the family's" 148

"Already one pumpkin pie was half-devoured" 230

"But the late rising moon looked down upon a curious scene" 290

"Each armed with a grinning Jack and somebody driving Whitey as a snowy guide" 324

THE BRASS BOUND BOX

CHAPTER I. 

LEGACY AND LEGATEE

Marsden was one of the few villages of our populous country yet leftremote from any line of railway. The chief events of its quiet days werethe morning and evening arrivals and departures of the mail-coach, whosedriver still retained the almost obsolete custom of blowing a horn tosignal his approach. 

All Marsden favored the horn, it was so convenient and so--so antique!which word typified the spirit of the place. For if modest Marsden hadany pride, it was in its own unchanging attitude toward modern ways andmethods. So, whenever Reuben Smith's trumpet was heard, the villagersknew it was time to leave their homes along the main street and repairto the "general store and post-office" for the mail, which was theirstrongest connecting link with the outside world. 

Occasionally, too, the coach brought a visitor to the village; thoughthis was commonly in summer-time, when even its own stand-offishnesscould not wholly repel the "city boarder. " After the leaves changedcolor, nobody went to and fro save those who "belonged, " as thestorekeeper, the milliner, and Squire Pettijohn, the lawyer; and it hadbeen ten years, at least, since Reuben's four-in-hand was brought to ahalt before Miss Eunice Maitland's gate. Now, on a windy day of lateSeptember, the two white horses and their two black companions werereined up there, while the trumpet gave a blast which startled theentire neighborhood. 

"My heart was in my mouth the minute I heard it!" declared the WidowSprigg to a crony, later on; although this curious disarrangement of heranatomy did not prevent the good woman from being foremost at the gateto learn the cause of this salute, thus rudely anticipating hermistress's rights in the case. Therefore, it was upon a time-damaged, cap-frilled countenance that Katharine Maitland's dismayed glance fellas she sprang from the stage and inquired:

"Are you my Aunt Eunice?"

"Your--Aunt--Eunice! Thank my stars, I ain't aunt to nobody!" returnedthe widow, almost as much alarmed by the appearance of this strangemaiden as she had been by the coachman's blast. 

"It is a matter of thankfulness, " retorted the girl, pertly, andsurveying the other with amused and critical eyes, which made SusannaSprigg "squirm in her shoes. "

Reuben now slowly climbed down from his high seat, and removed from therumble a great trunk, a suit-case, a parcel of books, and a dog-basket;and the stranger at once occupied herself in releasing from his confinedquarters a pug so atrociously high-bred that Susanna instantlyexclaimed:

"My stars! That dog's so humbly he must ache!"

Katharine would have given a crisp reply had not her attention beendistracted by Reuben's movements, who was waiting to receive his fare, yet in such terror of the pug's snapping jaws that he was stepping upand down in a lively fashion, as he rescued one foot and then the otherfrom his enemy's attack. 

"'Pears to blame _me_ for bein' shut up in that there basket, don't he?When anybody knows 'twasn't my fault at all. I hain't enj'yed the tripno more'n what he has, hearin' him yelp that continual, an' I must say Ididn't expect, at my time o' life, to commence drivin' stage for dogs. Here, sis, is your change. Good day to ye, an' a good welcome, I hope. "

"Humph! You don't speak as if you really 'hoped' it, but quite thereverse!" returned Punch's mistress, more shrewdly than courteously. 

"Dreadful smart, ain't ye?" said Reuben, and drove away, putting hishorn to his lips, and thereby drowning any further remarks which thestranger might have addressed to him. 

Lifting the ungainly brute in her arms, the girl now turned and surveyedthe house beyond the gate, her heart far heavier with homesickness thanseemed consistent with her outward, flippant bearing. 

What she saw was a wide, rambling frame house; wherever they showedbetween the clambering vines which encircled it, its clapboardsglistening white and its shutters vividly green. The few leaves stillleft upon the vines were scarlet, while behind the low roof rose maplesin the full glory of their autumn reds and yellows. The long front yardwas green and well kept, and the borders beside the path were gay withchrysanthemums, though between these showed the frost-blackened foliageof tenderer plants. Upon the porch was a woman with a shawl over herhead, apparently shivering in the wind which tossed the maple boughs, and awaiting an explanation of this arrival. 

"A pretty picture!" admitted Katharine, who fancied herself artistic, "but so lonesome it gives me the hypo! And that--that, I suppose, is myAunt Eunice. Well, Punch, come on! Let's get it over with!"

The Widow Sprigg had remained motionless, but keenly observant, and herthoughts were:

"If that ain't a Maitland, I never knew the breed. And I reckon I doknow it, bein's me an' my fam'ly has lived cheek by jowl with them an'their fam'ly since ever was. But which Maitland it is, or what in reasonshe's come for, beats me. "

Then, as the stranger walked coolly through the gateway, leaving herluggage on the sidewalk outside, Susanna sniffed, and remarked--foranybody to hear who chose:

"What's that mean? Expect me to fetch an' carry for such a strappin'girl as that? Well, not if I know Susanna Sprigg, an' I think I do. "

Whereupon, the widow, long time "assistant" to her more affluent"neighbor, " Miss Maitland, shrugged her shoulders at the wind and thisabsurd notion, and followed Kate. She wouldn't have missed the interviewbetween that young person and her enforced hostess "for a farm, " and yetshe was extremely anxious concerning the trunk and the parcels. Butcuriosity prevailed over caution, and she was in time to hear the rathernervous inquiry:

"Are you my Aunt Eunice--so called?"

"I am Eunice Maitland, and though I am not aunt in reality to any one, Ihave been lovingly nicknamed 'aunt' by many of my kin. But no matterwhat our relationship, you are a Maitland, I am sure, and I am very gladto see you in Marsden. Come in, come in at once. The wind is chill, andyou have had a long ride, " responded the precise old gentlewoman, extending her hand to Katharine, and cordially attempting to draw thegirl within the shelter of the great hall. 

But this hospitable attempt was rudely misunderstood by Punch, whosnapped at the hand, and caused its owner to withdraw it hastily, saying: "It will be better to leave your dog outside. "

"Leave my dog outside! Leave Punch, my--my--my darling! Oh! I can't dothat. He has been so tenderly brought up, and is so sensitive to thecold. He has really suffered on that dreadful ride. "

Miss Eunice frowned slightly, and merely remarking, "Very well, bringhim in, though I caution you against Sir Philip. He is old andirritable, " led the way through the wide hall into a sitting-roombeyond, where a wood fire was burning on the hearth, and the furnishingswere of the sort in vogue a hundred years ago. Even the disturbed youngvisitor thought she had never seen anything so charming as that simpleinterior, where everything was in keeping, and so spotlessly neat, andover which fell the cheerful radiance of the blazing logs. Unceremoniously dropping Punch, she clasped her hands in admiration, exclaiming:

"Oh, how quaint! How interesting! How unlike anything I expected tosee!"

Although Miss Eunice was gratified by this tribute to her familiarsurroundings, she fancied that its expression was overdone, and resentedits seemingly patronizing insincerity. Placing a chair directly in theglow of the fire, she invited Katharine to take it, while she herselfsat down on a straight-backed settle beyond. 

Sensitive to feel the lessening cordiality of her hostess's manner, Katharine hid her feeling behind an added flippancy, as she tossed herpalms outward, in a manner wholly natural to herself, but which thehouse-mistress again fancied an affectation, and exclaimed: "Well!"

"Well?" returned Miss Eunice, quietly but inquiringly. 

"Well, I suppose you're the legatee and I'm the legacy. I hope you won'tbe half as unwilling to accept me as I am to be left to you. If you are, there'll be some high times in Marsden. "

This mixture of frankness and bravado brought a second frown to MissMaitland's fine face, but she said, quite courteously:

"Kindly explain, my child, who you are, and to what I am indebted--"

"For the nuisance of your legacy, " interrupted the girl, excitedly, and, thrusting a sealed letter into the other's hand, drew back in her ownchair and covered her face with her hands. Under all her self-confidentmanner her heart was throbbing painfully, and she felt as if she mustget up and run away. Somewhere in the great forest through which Reubenhad driven his coach lay an apparently deserted little cabin, which hadattracted her by its overgrowth of woodbine--that hereabout seemed toenvelop everything upon which it could clasp its tendrils--and whosememory now returned to her invitingly. Exiled from her own home, analien here, such a spot as that would be a haven of refuge. She had notknown exactly what was in the letter she had tossed Miss Maitland, butshe had guessed sufficiently near to know its contents could not beflattering to herself. Beneath her hiding hands her cheeks were flushingwith shame when she heard her name spoken with utmost gentleness andaffection. 

"So you are John's only child! I should have known it without beingtold, only it is so many, many years since he left me, a wild little ladwho found the old home too dull. He was not as close of kin as someothers I have reared here, and he was but fifteen when he went away. ButI have always loved him, and hoped for his return; and now--"

"Oh, my stars!" inadvertently exclaimed the Widow Sprigg, thusdisclosing the fact that she had been listening beyond the door. 

"And now, Susanna, I smell your bread scorching, " went on the mistressas calmly as if the other had not betrayed herself. Then, when thekitchen door had been slammed by the retreating hand-maiden, with anemphasis that said as clearly as words that her mistress might go on andtalk, and things might happen enough to turn a body's head, for all she, Susanna Sprigg, cared or noticed, so there! Miss Eunice left her ownseat, and, going around to Katharine's, gently drew the hiding handsaway from the troubled young face, and, putting the letter into them, said: "There, my dear, read it. "

"No, no! I can't! I won't! I hate it. I hate her, andall--all--belonging to her! I never want to see or hear of her again. And I won't stay. I see you don't want your legacy, and I'll go at once. I have ten dollars, I can live--"

"Why, there's some mistake, little girl. This is from no 'her, ' but--amessage from the dead. "

The sudden break in the quiet old voice touched the listener more thanthe words, and she mechanically took the letter as she repeated:

"A message from the dead? What can you mean?"

"Read it and see. "

Then Katharine read what her idolized father had written many monthsbefore, when the knowledge of his own approaching death had come to him;and it seemed to her that it was his own voice saying:

 "DEAR AUNT EUNICE:--For dear you are, notwithstanding all these years of silence, during which your wild little lad has grown into a busy, care-burdened man. That you heard of my first marriage, and my wife's early death, leaving me with one little girl--your legacy--I know; because that all happened before the habit of our correspondence lapsed. But you may not know that two years ago I married again, a widow with four little sons; and though she has been the best of wives to me, she and my darling Katharine have not been happy together. Kate is a passionate, self-willed, but great-hearted child, so full of romantically generous impulses that I long ago nicknamed her my 'Kitty Quixote. ' Her stepmother's nature and temperament are of quite another mold; and knowing what I have just learned concerning my own health, I foresee nothing but misery for these two, should they be left to live together without my presence. 

 "So, since my motherless daughter is my most precious possession and you have been my most devoted friend, I find it the most natural thing in the world to bequeath my treasure to my friend. If, for any reason unknown to me, you cannot accept my legacy I have made other arrangements for Katharine's future, which you can learn by applying to my lawyers, Messrs. Brown and Brown, Blank Street, New York. 

 "My wife knows of this letter, and we have arranged that after my death, should it occur, Kate is to remain with her for six months, as a final test of their ability to live happily together, and for the benefit of the schools in this city. At the end of that time, if these two well-meaning but uncongenial people decide that it is wisest to part, 'Kitty Quixote' will be sent to you, to do with as you see fit. In any case, she will be no pecuniary charge to any one; her own mother's little fortune, with such a portion of mine as is justly hers, being all-sufficient for ordinary needs. 

 "In loving remembrance of my boyhood, made happy by your care, and in firm reliance upon your friendship, your troublesome John bids you farewell. "

Katharine had expected to find the sealed letter she had beencommissioned to deliver to Miss Maitland but a complaining missive fromher stepmother, setting forth the girl's faults and failures with thataccuracy of detail so characteristic of the "second Mrs. John. " Thatlady's handwriting upon the envelope had helped her to this impression, yet so honest was she that she had not once thought of protesting orrefusing to deliver it. The revulsion of feeling was now so strong thatshe could not restrain her tears, nor the impulse to throw herselfheadlong upon Aunt Eunice, crying wildly:

"Oh, it's all true! But he loved me, my father loved me, bad as I am!And for his sake I wish--I wish I could be good. So folks, his folks, or--or anybody could stand it to live with me! But I can't. I've tried. I've tried ever so hard, yet the goodness gets down below and thebadness stays on top, and then things go--smash!"

Aunt Eunice waited a moment, then replaced Katharine in her chair, thinking what a child she still seemed, despite her fourteen years andher city training. Also, recalling with a thrill of pride that sheherself, at fourteen years, had been the head of her own father'swidowed home and a woman, by contrast. "Though I was reared in Marsden, "she complacently reflected, as she said:

"I should be glad to hear whatever you choose to tell me, my dear, ofyour life. Especially, what caused the final break between you and Mrs. Maitland. "

"Why, it wasn't badness at all, that time! It was meant in kindness. Some other girls and I had fixed up a sort of house-picnic forwasher-woman Biddy's children, who were all down with the measles, andjust to amuse them I took stepmother's boys, the four youngSnowballs--haven't they the absurdest name?--along; and she--she didn'tlike it. She said things. That I'd wilfully exposed them to danger, though I ought to be as careful of them as if they were my realbrothers. And there I was trying to be, only she didn't understand. Then, another day, not long before, I coaxed some big boys who have anaphtha-launch to give the 'Balls a sail on it down the bay. The thinghappened to explode, and, though nobody was hurt, she went on justterrible because I'd taken the children without asking her. How could Iask her when she was off shopping, or somewhere, just at the very momentthe idea popped into my head? And nothing befell the little fellowsexcept getting their clothes wet, and they always needed washing, anyway. The nice part of it was that they were scared into behavingthemselves as they should for a whole week afterward, and she might havebeen pleased. But it was always like that. I'd have perfectly lovelyplans for making everybody happy, all around, and they'd all end justthe other way. So here I am. Mrs. John has cast me off; do you acceptme?"

"First, let me ask if you were accustomed to speak of your father's wifein that manner?"

The girl was surprised by the other's tone, yet promptly answered:"Certainly. Everybody amongst father's artist friends called her either'the second Mrs. John, ' or 'Stepmother. ' Either one it happened. Why?"

"It was most disrespectful. "

At this uncompromising reply, Kate stared, exclaiming: "Why, you're atruth-teller yourself, aren't you?"

"I am. Did you not suppose so?" returned Miss Maitland, amused. 

"Well, you see, I've been told you were very agreeable, and most of thereally agreeable people I know lie like the mischief. "

"Katharine!"

"Fact. And I've got into more scrapes for telling the truth than for anyother thing I've done, except being kind to the little Snowballs. But--hark! What's that? Punch--_Punch_--You flippety-cap woman! Stop!Stop! Stop!"

An eruptive, agonized bark from the hall sent the girl thither at abound, while Miss Eunice hastily followed, anxiously crying: "Philip!Sir _Philip Sidney_!"

CHAPTER II. 

MASTER MONTGOMERY STURTEVANT

Wildly beating the air with a long-handled broom, her cap-frills flying, her spectacles awry, the Widow Sprigg was vainly endeavoring to restorepeace between Punch, the newcomer, and Sir Philip Sidney, the venerableAngora cat which had hitherto "ruled the roost. "

The pug, with a native curiosity almost as great as Susanna's own, hadslipped from the sitting-room unobserved and had wandered to the warmkitchen where Sir Philip lay asleep on his cushion, unmindful ofinterlopers till an ugly black muzzle was poked into his ribs, and hefound his natural enemy coolly ruffling his silken fur. 

Until then, Miss Eunice had boasted of her pet that he was as like hisfamous namesake as it was possible for any animal to be like any humanbeing, and quoted concerning him that he was "sublimely mild, a spiritwithout spot. " Indeed, Miss Maitland's beautiful "Angory" was one ofthe show animals of Marsden. He had been brought to his mistress by areturning traveller more years ago than most people remembered, and hadcontinued to live his charmed and pampered life long after the ordinaryage of his kind. With appetite always supplied with the best of food, his handsome body lodged luxuriously, it was small wonder that hithertohe had worn his aristocratic title with a gentleness befitting hishistoric prototype. 

Now, suddenly, the pent-up temper of his past broke out in one terrificburst; and he bit, scratched, tore, and yowled with all the ferocity ofyouth, while Punch, realizing that he had stirred up a bigger rumpusthan even his mischievous spirit desired, vainly sought to elude hisenemy's attacks. 

"Why, Philip! Sir Philip!" cried Miss Eunice, stooping to grasp herfavorite's collar, and by his unlooked-for onrush against her own feetlosing her balance and falling to the floor. 

"Punch! You bad, bad dog! There--you woman! Don't you dare--don't youdare to strike him with that awful broom! If he needs punishing--I'llpunish him myself! Oh, what a horrid place, what horrid folks, what aperfectly fiendish cat!" shrieked Kate, folding both arms tight aboutthe pug's fat, squirming body, and rushing out-of-doors with him. But bythis time his courage had returned, and, wriggling himself free, herushed back to the battle. 

[Illustration: "HE NOW LAY STRETCHED UPON HIS OWNER'S LAP AS SHE STILLSAT ON THE FLOOR"]

Alas! that exciting affair was all over. Sir Philip's unwonted anger hadproved too much for his strength, and, utterly exhausted, he now laystretched upon his owner's lap as she still sat on the floor, strokingand caressing him most tenderly. 

Katharine had followed Punch back to the kitchen, and was as startled ashe was proud at the sight before them. Cocking his square head on oneside, curling his tail, wrinkling his nose, and protruding his pinktongue even more than usual, he regarded his fallen foe with suchcomical satisfaction that Katharine's alarm gave place to amusement, andshe laughed aloud. But the laugh died as quickly as it had risen whenAunt Eunice looked up and said, reproachfully:

"I fear it has killed him, poor fellow!"

"Oh, no, no! A little bit of a scrap like that kill a cat? I thoughtthey had nine lives, and such a trifle--Why, Punch is as fresh as adaisy, and that proud! Just look at him!" cried the girl. Yet herenthusiasm was dashed by the expression of deep sorrow on MissMaitland's face, and there were real tears in the widow's eyes as shenow advanced, broom in hand, though without apparent anger, to sweepPunch out of the room. 

Katharine was too surprised to protest, beyond quietly motioning thebroom aside and lifting the now submissive pug to her shoulder, where heperched calmly contemplative of the disaster he had evoked. 

"There, Eunice, don't fret. What can't be cured must be endured, youknow, and even a cat can't die but once. Only he was _such_ a cat! Wesha'n't never see his like again, an'--Take care there, sis! Don't youknow he always hated water?" exclaimed Susanna, resting upon herbroom-handle, and bending above her anxious mistress till a dash fromthe dipper deluged both cat and lap. 

Yet now full of sympathy and regret Kate did not pause in her work ofrestoration, and either the bath did revive Sir Philip or he had been onthe point of recovery, for he suddenly sprang up, shook his drenchedhead, and staggered toward his cushion on the hearth, where he lay downand proceeded to smooth his disordered fur. 

Then Kate put her arms around Miss Maitland and helped that lady to herfeet, saying, earnestly:

"Oh, I am so sorry, and I am so glad! but it will never happen again. Poor old Sir Philip won't be in a hurry to fight, and Punch never doesif he can help it. Do you, you darling?" she finished to the perplexeddog, which she had unceremoniously dropped from her shoulder when shehad rushed for the water. 

The pug gave a funny little wink of one intelligent eye, as if he fullyunderstood; then slowly waddled across the rag-carpeted floor and curledhimself up at a safe distance from Sir Philip, upon whom he kept a warywatch. But he was a weary dog by that time, and so glad of warmth andrepose that he left even his own damaged coat to take care of itself forthe present. 

However, if he was calm, the Widow Sprigg was no longer so. Kate had notonly drenched the cat and his mistress, but she had left a large puddlein the very centre of Susanna's "new brea'th" of rag carpet, its ownernow indignantly demanding to know if Miss Eunice "was goin' to put upwith any such doin's? That wery brea'th that I cut an' sewed myself, outof my own rags, an' not a smitch of your'n in it, an' hadn't much more'njust got laid down ready for winter. An' if it had come to this thatdogs and silly girls was to be took in an' done for, cats, or no cats, Angory or otherwise, she, for one, Susanna Sprigg, wasn't goin' to putup with it, an' so I tell you, an' give notice, according. "

During the delivery of this speech the widow's black eyes had glaredthrough her spectacles so fiercely that the young visitor was alarmed, and said to Aunt Eunice, appealingly:

"Oh, please don't let her go just because I've come! I'll not staymyself, to make such trouble, even if you'll have me--and you haven'tsaid so yet. There's that boarding-school left--"

Miss Maitland ignored the appeal, but looking through the windowremarked to her irate assistant:

"That luggage shouldn't be left on the sidewalk, Susanna. Get Moses tohelp you bring it in. If a tramp should happen to pass he might make offwith it. "

By which quiet rejoinder Kate understood that she had been "accepted;"also that the house-mistress was not disturbed by the threat of herhandmaid. Indeed, she discovered afterward that it was the widow's habitto threaten thus whenever her temper was a trifle ruffled; also, thatnothing save death was apt to sever her relationship with the Maitlandfamily, which she held far dearer than her own. 

"Tramps? Do you have tramps in this out-of-the-way village? I'm afraidof tramps, myself, and they're about the only things I am really afraidof, " said Kate, following Aunt Eunice back into the sitting-room. 

"I never knew one to pass through Marsden, and I've lived here always;but Susanna has read of them and their depredations, and is constantlyon the lookout for one. Except for the trouble between the cat and dogshe wouldn't have left your things in the street a moment after she hadsatisfied her curiosity concerning you. But you will like Susanna whenyou have become accustomed to her. A better-hearted woman never lived. "

To this assurance the girl replied with a doubtful laugh and the words:

"I never should have dreamed it;" then stationed herself at the windowto watch the proceedings outside. 

The Widow Sprigg had vanished through a back kitchen and now appearedaround the corner of the house, having in tow an elderly man, whofollowed her with evident reluctance. She had thrown on a "slat"sunbonnet, and pinned a red shawl about her shoulders, but had shakenher head so vigorously that the shawl had slipped down and the sunbonnetback, while the frills of her muslin cap waved blindingly before herspectacles. 

"Who is that? Is he 'Moses'? Does he live here?" asked Kate, laughingnot only at the appearance but behavior of the two. 

"Yes. He is my hired man. His name is Moses Jones. He is not as old ashe looks, and is one of our likeliest citizens. He's quite intelligent, and has even been mentioned for a constable--if Marsden should ever needone. If enough city people should come here to warrant such an office, "finished the lady, with unconscious sarcasm. 

Kate's head came around with a jerk. "Constable? That's a policeman, isn't it?"

"Yes. "

"And is it only 'city people' who do wrong and need arresting? Because, you see, I'm a 'city' person myself, and resent that idea!" laughed thegirl, mischievously. Yet the next instant she regretfully observed thatshe had again annoyed her dignified hostess. 

Indeed, the annoyance was so great that Miss Maitland's brow clouded, and her eye swept the stylishly garbed small figure at the window withrenewed misgiving. She knew little of the latter-day young folks, withtheir study-sharpened intelligence, their habit of repartee, and theirself-assumed equality with their elders. Such few of the Marsden ladsand lasses as visited her belonged to the old-fashioned families, andwere trained to strict habits of obedience, and "to speak when they werespoken to. " They were supposed to have no opinions on any subject savesuch as were formed for them by their parents and guardians; and--well, they were altogether different from this alert, dark-eyed maiden, whohad been in the house less than an hour, yet had already upset it to adegree!

Kate's gaze had again returned to the scene without, and she hadforgotten her momentary regret, as she observed, from time to time:

"She's the funniest thing I ever saw, and he's funnier than she! Hedoesn't want to lift the trunk. No. She doesn't want him to. Yes, shedoes. She's getting mad. He won't do it her way. She won't do it his. They're both coming in and leaving it on the sidewalk. He's sayingsomething to her and now she's faced about again. Maybe he said 'tramp, 'because she's looking all up and down the street as if she were scared, and he's laughing. I guess he's laughing--he shakes as if he were, yethis face is as sober as ever. Now they're off! Here they come. But dolook, Aunt Eunice, oh, do look! He's just barely lifting his end off theground, and she's raised hers real high. She's doing the most of thework, I believe, yet he's crouching down as if he were half-crushed bythe weight. The idea! He sha'n't do that! I won't let any woman betreated that way!"

Out she sped, leaving all doors open and thus obliging Miss Maitland toclose them after her or let the rooms be cooled by the inrush of wind. But her swift comprehension of the habits of the two household helpers, and her vivid description of their present movements, had so amused thelady that she also took up a point of observation, and was just in timeto see Katharine indignantly push Moses' hand from the trunk-handle andseize it herself. It was evidently a heavier load than she had expected, for, at first, her end went down even lower than when Moses held it, yet she rallied instantly, and with all her might lifted it to a levelwith Susanna's, who was as instantly won by this action, and exclaimed, exultantly:

"There, Moses Jones! What did I tell you? Ain't no heft in it, not amite. Nobody but a man--a man--would make such a how-de-do over a trunk. Just a trunk!"

The infinite scorn of words and manner provoked nothing further from her"shif'less" housemate than another silent chuckle, and a keen glance atKatharine from beneath his bushy eyebrows. 

Yet he did look a trifle ashamed when his mistress herself opened thehall door again to admit the trunk-bearers, and without more ado hurriedback to the sidewalk and brought in the rest of the luggage. It wasnoticeable that he no longer stooped or affected fatigue; and that assoon as Susanna let go the trunk at the foot of the stairs heimmediately shouldered it, like the lightest of parcels, and carried itswiftly above. Then, pausing at the top of the flight, he asked, in abrisk tone:

"Which room, Eunice?"

"The sitting-room chamber, Moses. "

Katharine listened, astonished, then exclaimed:

"Why--I thought he was your 'hired man. ' That's servant, isn't it?"

"About the same thing, my dear, " answered Miss Maitland, smiling everso slightly, and quite conscious that Susanna's black eyes and keen earswere alert for her reply. 

"But he called you by your first name! just as if he were your brother, or--or--somebody. "

"There is little giving of titles in Marsden, Katharine, but that doesnot imply any lack of respect. Moses and Susanna and I were schoolmatestogether in the little red schoolhouse at the crossroads, and none ofus--none of us--wish to forget it. The same old schoolhouse where yourfather learned his letters, and where you will go if you are happyenough with me to remain. Now, Widow Sprigg, let John's little girl seewhat sort of a supper you used to fix for him when he was hungry. "

All fancied slight at the term "servant" thus atoned for by the formal"Widow Sprigg, " and her favor swiftly won by Kate's behavior with thetrunk, the housekeeper departed in high good-humor, her cap-stringsflying, spectacles pushed to the top of her head, and cheerilyremarking:

"So she shall, so she shall. I'll show her. For Johnny was the boy toeat an' enj'y his victuals. 'Twas a comfort to cook for him, he was thathearty. I'll have it ready in the jerk of a lamb's tail. "

Moses came down the stairs and went out "to do his chores, " castinganother keen glance at the stranger ascending them with Miss Maitlandto the sitting-room chamber. For the girl's marked resemblance to a boyhe had known and taken fishing many a time, he was inclined to like her;but because of the probable altered household life, and her swiftperception of his whimsies, equally inclined to dislike; and he shiftedthe straw from one side of his mouth to the other, reflecting:

"Well, it's more'n likely she an' Eunice won't gee. Eunice has raisedsix seven of her folkses' childern, an' I 'lowed she'd got done; butthere ain't no accountin' for silly women--silly women. Get out, there, you! Strange that a body can't leave a gate open a single minute here inMarsden village, without somebody's stray cattle trespassin'. Get out, Isay!"

The plump white cow, which had obtruded its nose through the gateway, calmly withdrew it and proceeded on its way undisturbed by Moses'frantic gestures. Miss Maitland's was not the only dooryard in thevillage where grass was still abundant, and Whitey knew it. 

"That's old Mis' Sturtevant's critter again! She's no right to turn itloose to feed along the street, that-a-way. Course, she's set Monty towatch, an' he's gone off a-fishin'. That's as plain as a pike-staff. Pshaw! Folks so poor they can't feed their stawk hain't a right to keepany, I declare! When I get to be constable I'll straighten some thingsin Marsden township that's terrible crooked now; an' the very first oneI'd complain of or arrest would be that lazy little stutterin' MontySturtevant!"

"W-w-w-wo-would it?"

The voice came from beneath the white lilac bush, but it seemed to comefrom the earth, and Katharine, at the just opened sitting-room chamberwindow, saw the whole affair, and laughed aloud. 

Her laughter startled the intruder as much as he had startled Moses, andhe came out of hiding, demanding:

"W-w-who's t-t-that? Aunt Eu-Eu-Eu-Eunice got comp-p-pany?"

"Yes. But that's no concern of yours, " snapped the hired man, "and youbest go 'tend your cow;" finishing his advice with a threatening nod. 

"Oh, f-f-f-fudge! Wait till you get to _be_ co-co-constable, then shakeyour h-head. W-w-who is it, I say?"

"I hain't been told, but I 'low she's some cousin forty-times-removed toEunice, come to sponge a livin' out of us. But she needn't worry younone. She hain't come to your house to upset things. "

"G-g-glad of it!" returned this ungallant young Marsdenite. "But say, Un-un-uncle M-Mose. "

"Now, Monty, none o' that. I know what's afoot when any you boys beginto 'uncle' me, an' I say 'No. ' I ain't goin' to give up my night's restfor a fishin'-trip. You hear me?"

"B-b-but, Uncle Mose! I've got the b-ba-bai-bait all dug, and it'll bep-p-pr-prime for fishin'. Say, Uncle Mose, we haven't had a s-s-s-singlespeck o' fresh me-me-meat 't our house for a w-w-w-week!"

"Montgomery Sturtevant! That ought to make you stutter an' choke! Eunicesent your grandma a pair o' pullets no longer ago 'n yesterday. You--"

But Monty had already departed to summon his chums for an evening'ssport. Well he and they knew that the shortest road to the hired man'sheart was by the suggestion of hunger; and the surest way to secureparents' consent was the announcement:

"Uncle Moses'll take us fishin', if you'll let us go. "

Moses again turned his face chore-ward; yet it was noticeable that hepaused to examine his "tackle" before he fed the poultry, and that hesoftly whistled as he went about his work. He was even first at therendezvous, on the old "eddy road;" and though others joined him there, Montgomery--at once his dearest delight and greatest torment--did notappear. 

Alas! at that moment the impecunious heir of all the Sturtevants washimself in anything but a whistling mood; and was thinking direfulthings concerning a girl with whom he had not yet exchanged a word. 

"The h-h-h-hateful young one! Un-un-uncle Mose said 'none o' mywor-r-ry, ' an' that's all he k-k-knew! Plague take her! W-w-what shecome to M-M-Ma-Marsden for an' drive me plumb cr-cr-craz-crazy!"

CHAPTER III. 

WHY MONTY DID NOT GO A-FISHING

Montgomery's love of gossip was his own undoing. When, after the mannerof Moses, worthy guide, the young angler had put his own fishing-tacklein order, he sought the dining-room, where supper awaited. For once hewas on time, and received a word of commendation from his grandmother, which so elated him that he mentally reviewed the day's events for a bitof news with which to enliven her monotony. Then like a flash arosebefore him the picture of an unknown girl at Miss Maitland's window. This was something worth telling, indeed. 

With his mouth full of chicken, remnant of Eunice's pullets, he burstforth. 

"A-a-aunt Eunice's got comp'ny. "

The punctilious old lady opposite raised her thin hand, protesting: "Myson, you should never attempt to talk when you are eating. "

Nothing abashed, the boy swallowed hastily and reiterated his statement. At which Madam Sturtevant exclaimed, with as much excitement of manneras she ever showed: "Company? Dear Eunice entertaining guests? Why, son, how did you learn that? Who are they, pray?"

"D-d-didn't say 'g-guests. ' She's a g-g-gir-rl. How I learned, Is-s-saw. With my own eyes. M-m-more chicken, g-gramma. "

"Yes, dear heart. It is delicious poultry, and so sweet of Eunice toremember us. We were always close friends, and she is still a lovelywoman. So fresh and young looking. But then, Eunice never married norwas widowed, nor exchanged wealth for poverty, nor reared a--agrandson, " concluded the dame, fixing a too thoughtful gaze uponMontgomery's freckled face, whose only aristocratic feature was a pairof exceptionally fine eyes. Her mind was already wandering back intothat past which held so much more of interest to this decayedgentlewoman than the present; but, wriggling under her survey ofhimself, the lad reminded her that Miss Maitland had also had hertrials, in that:

"Un-un-uncle Mose s-says she's raised s-s-s-six sev--en other folks'ch-ch-ch-childern, anyhow. "

"Sixty-seven children! My dear, you must certainly have misunderstood. But no matter. Finish your food at once. Our duty is plain. I dislikegoing out, except on Sundays, and especially at evening, yet dear Eunicewould think me most remiss if I delayed to pay my respects to any guestof hers. I am dressed sufficiently well for an informal visit, but--"here the old lady put on her glasses and critically regarded hergrandson's attire, then remorselessly continued: "But you, my son, musttake a bath and put on your best suit. As soon as possible; because thestranger will be tired and wish to retire early. Finished? That is well. Strike the bell for Alfaretta. "

Though his plate was still heaped with the choice portions of the fowl, which his doting grandmother had preserved for him, and though he wasstill hungry, unlucky Monty sank back in his chair, a limp, crestfallenlad. With his dejected stare fixed upon her unrelenting face, hestammered forth:

"B-b-but, g-g-gr-gramma! I'm goin' a-f-f-fishin'!"

"Nonsense. Get ready immediately, " said Madam, rising from table, andmeasuring out the supper portion of Alfaretta, the one small servant ofa house which had once sheltered many. 

Then he also rose, but so languidly that "Alfy" stared, and, glancingtoward his still full plate, inquired: "You sick?"

"No, I ain't. I'm m-m-mad!"

"At me?"

"N-no. Y-y-yes. You're another of 'em. She's a g-g-girl. I've got to gos-s-s-see her! Just a p-p-plain girl!"

The infinite scorn with which this reply was hurled at her touchedAlfaretta's pride. Was she not, also, a girl? Said she, with intent to"get even" for some of his former toplofty remarks: "Oh! I thought youwas goin' fishin' with Uncle Mose. I saw Bob Turner go past, quite aspell ago, and he was whistlin' like lightnin'. And I heard you say, more'n once, 't _you_ 'hadn't no man to boss you--you could do as youpleased. "

"So I can when--when g-g-gr-gramma ain't r-r-round, " replied he, someekly that Alfaretta relented. She had been intending to add thecontents of Monty's plate to the less appetizing portion set out forherself, but now determined to put aside for a future luncheon whateverhe had left. Food was never overabundant at the Madam's, and Alfarettamade it her business that none of what there was should ever go towaste. 

"Never mind, Monty. To-morrow ain't touched yet, an' there'll always befish in the pool, " comforted the little maid with real sympathy, for, despite the fact that he teased her continually, she loved himsincerely. 

But he merely banged the door behind him as he departed to his toilet, feeling himself the most abused of mortals. For if there was anythingwhich this "last of the Sturtevants" hated worse than paying a visit itwas taking a cold bath in a tub, an ordinary wooden wash-tub! To haveboth bath and visit imposed upon him in one fell hour, was anundreamed-of calamity. 

Therefore, it was a very different appearing youth from his ordinarymerry self who was presented to Katharine in Miss Eunice's lamp-lightedsitting-room an hour later. In outward matters, also, a vastly improvedone, since his rough denim blouse and overalls had been exchanged for afairly modern suit, thoughtfully supplied him by wealthier relatives;his tangle of close-cropped curls brushed smooth, and his face freedfrom all spots save freckles. 

"Katharine, you may take Montgomery over to that little table where thephotograph albums are, and show them to him. You and he should be goodfriends, as all the Sturtevants and Maitlands have been for generationsbefore you, " said Miss Eunice, after the presentation had been made, andduring which ceremony Monty had wisely refrained from speech. 

"Come on, then, and I'm awfully glad to see you. I began to think therewasn't a single young person in this Marsden, for all I've seen so farhave been gray-haired, " said Kate, leading the way to the table, where ashaded lamp shed a pleasant radiance. But, having arrived there, shecoolly pushed the albums aside, and remarked:

"I hate looking at photographs. Don't you? They're commonly soinartistic. I'd much rather talk. "

By this time Monty was staring with wonder at this creature, who was oneof the despised "girls, " who had laughed at him from the window, andwhose speech and appearance were so unlike those of all other girls heknew. She didn't act shy nor silly, nor drop her g's, nor pretend"politeness, " nor wear her hair or clothes as they did. She was just asfrank and unabashed as a boy among boys, and the visitor began to beglad that he had come. It would be something worth while telling atschool to-morrow, that he had already made acquaintance with AuntEunice's unexpected company, and that she was real nice. 

Something of her charm vanished, however, when she ordered, peremptorily: "You begin. "

Now, although the boy outwardly made light of his own affliction, he wasin reality extremely sensitive concerning it, and naturally he was notinclined to open conversation with this stranger whose own tongue was soglib. He, therefore, contented himself with turning his great blue eyes, fringed with such wonderful lashes, full upon her, and smilingbeatifically. So cherubic was his expression, indeed, that at thatinstant Madam, chancing to turn her gaze that way, touched MissMaitland's arm and directed that lady's attention toward him, whispering:

"Isn't he lovely? Isn't he clear Sturtevant?"

"Yes, he is Sturtevant, indeed, " assented Aunt Eunice, but with a sighthat did not betoken satisfaction. "He has the Sturtevant vanity, Elinor, to the full. You should correct him of it at once. He's a finelad--in some respects. "

It proved that Montgomery was to be corrected, and at once, though notby his indulgent guardian. It was Katharine's part to do that, as sheopened her own dark eyes to their fullest, and exclaimed:

"Well! You're the first boy I ever saw make goo-goo eyes! The very firstboy. They're quite pretty, but I'd rather hear you talk than look at_them_. Tell me things. I've come to this village, and I've got to stay. I'm a legacy. I'm left to Aunt Eunice yonder, and she can keep me longas she likes. When she doesn't like, she can send me to boarding-school. I'm an orphan. I hope she _will_ like, because I love her already, onlyshe's so correct I know I shall shock her a dozen times a day. I'mfourteen years old. My home was in Baltimore. I came on to New Yorkyesterday with a friend of the second Mrs. John's--I mean, of Mrs. Maitland's--and stayed there last night. To-day I came on the train asfar as it went, then in the stage with the queer driver blowing a horn. It was just like a story-book. This home, too, and everybody might beout of a story-book, all so unlike anything I ever saw. But, I beg yourpardon. I've just thought that, though you seem to hear well enough, maybe you are dumb. Are you? Because if you are I can talk a littlemyself in the sign language. "

This was too much. Monty burst forth in self-defence, and to stop thatrunning chatter of hers:

"N-n-n-no! I-I-I-I--"

Then silence. Katharine had never before met a person who stammered, andshe was utterly astonished. At that moment, also, there was a lull inthe animated conversation which the two old ladies opposite had hithertokept up, so that Montgomery's loud yet uncertain protest fell like abomb on the air. 

However, the silence was not to last. Katharine recovered from hersurprise, and demanded, indignantly:

"Why do you say 'I-I-I-I'? Are you mocking me? because if you are, Iconsider that more ungentlemanly than to make eyes. "

"No, Kate, Montgomery is unfortunate. He stutters. You should apologize. To jeer at the infirmity of others is the depth of ill-breeding, "interposed Miss Maitland, hastily crossing the room and laying areproving hand upon the girl's shoulder. Then she continued, smilingaffectionately upon the lad: "But we who all know and love Montgomeryare sure that he will, in time, overcome his impediment. 'Tis only amatter of practice and patience. "

The boy made no reply, but sat with down-bent head and flushing face, wishing again, as when this dreadful visit was appointed him, thatKatharine Maitland had never set foot in Marsden village. Longing, too, with a longing unspeakable, to retort upon her with a volubility andsharpness exceeding even her own. But all unconsciously his pride hadreceived just the sting needed, and his angry thought, in which therewas no halting stammer, was this:

"I'll show her! I'll let her see a Sturtevant is as good as a Maitlandany day! I ain't vain. She sha'n't say it. I have got nice eyes, folksall say so, and it's easier to talk with them than with my crooked oldtongue. But I'll conquer it. I will. Then I'll show her what kind of agirl she is to dare--"

To dare what?

In all his previous ignominy there was naught compared with this. Forhere was Kate, remorseful, warm-hearted Kate, who never meant to give asingle creature pain, yet was forever doing it, Kate--down upon herknees clasping Monty's neck with her arms, kissing and beseeching him"not to mind, " exactly as she would have kissed the smallest of all theSnowballs, and not resenting it in the least because he did notinstantly respond to her entreaties. 

Respond?

For the space of several seconds it seemed to the lad that his head waswhirling on his shoulders like a top. Then, with all the rudeness ofhis greater strength, he flung the demonstrative girl aside and rushedfrom the house. One idea alone was clear in his troubled brain: that hemust get away from everything feminine and go where there were "men. "The fishing-pool. Uncle Moses and the boys. The thought of them wasrefreshment, and put all other thoughts, of disobedience and its like, far from him. Striking out boldly, yet half-blindly through the dimlight, he crossed Miss Maitland's orchard, took a short cut by way ofthe great forest--which he nor no other Marsden lad would ordinarilyhave entered alone after nightfall--on past the "deserted cottage" inthe very heart of the wood, and then--oblivion. 

CHAPTER IV. 

FOXES' GULLY

When next Montgomery opened his eyes his head lay on something soft, andhe confusedly tried to understand what and where it was. But thoughtseemed difficult, and he closed his lids again, wondering what made himfeel so weak, and drowsily deciding that he must be in his own bed andthis the middle of the night. 

In one thing he was correct--it was the middle of the night; a laterhour than the boy had ever been absent from home, even upon the mostprolonged of fishing-trips. Yet the softness beneath his head was notthat of a pillow in its case, but the lap of a white-frocked girl, whowas holding him tenderly and sobbing as if her heart would break. 

"W-w-wh-where 'm I a-at? Who's a-c-c-cr-cry--in'?"

"Oh, you darling boy! you didn't die, did you, after all! Oh, I'm soglad, so glad, so glad! And I thought I had killed you. I'd neverkilled anybody before, though stepmother said I'd tried. I mean I--Isuppose I scared you some way, I don't see how, for the minute I wasgood to you and sorry, you ran away. "

Montgomery moved uneasily. He began to remember events distinctly; quitetoo distinctly, in fact. He had run away from that horrid girl, and hehad forgotten the ravine beyond "deserted cottage. " He had fallen downit and hit his head. He could recall the dreadful sensation of pitchingforward into a seemingly bottomless pit, and shivered afresh at thememory. 

Feeling him shiver thus, Katharine drew her white skirts around hisshoulders, and cossetted him as if he had been a baby. He tried towriggle away from her on to the ground beyond, but this she sturdilyprevented, and the late-rising moon cast its light just then upon aface, oddly set and determined for that of so young a girl. 

Finding himself helpless in that strange weakness, Monty ceased towriggle, and demanded: "How y-y-y-you get here, a-a-a-nyway?"

"Oh! I just followed. When you ran away I ran after. "

"A-a-a-aunt Eu-Eu-nice let you?"

"I didn't stop to ask her permission. I saw I'd hurt your feelings, andI couldn't let you go without telling you I was sorry. But, you see, Inever before knew anybody who stammered, and I didn't think how rude Iwas to mention it. Not till Aunt Eunice pointed it out. I do beg yourpardon, sincerely. Will you forgive me?"

It was not in the spirit of any Sturtevant, past or present, to declinean apology so sweetly and earnestly offered. Besides, that was as itshould be. Humility was the correct attitude for insignificant girlstoward such superior creatures as boys, and Monty waxed magnanimous, replying:

"Oh, y-y-es! I'll f-f-forgive you. But I don't see. G-g-gir-ls can't runlike boys. "

"Can't they, indeed? Well, you ran like a hare, and I just as fast. There was mighty little space between us, honey, and you may believe it. How else should I have known the way? I had to keep you in sight, ofcourse. It was so fearfully dark in that forest that I nearly lost youonce, but I could hear if I couldn't see; and it wasn't so bad when wegot outside again. Yet whatever should make you, a boy--a boy!--go andhurl yourself over a precipice, when you knew all the time it was there, while I, a girl--a girl, if you please! who didn't know a thing aboutit--stopped short on the brink, amazes me. Explain it, won't you?"

"Oh, f-f-f-fudge! Must be aw-aw-awful late. Moon don't rise now t-t-till'most m-m-morning, " observed Montgomery, declining explanations, andwondering how she had perceived his distaste for girls. Besides, he wasrapidly regaining strength, and now when he raised himself aninspiration came to him. The inspiration found voice in the words:

"M-m-m-might's well be hung for a s-s-s-sheep as a l-l-l-lamb. "

The observation was apparently so senseless and Katharine's love ofmimicry so strong that she couldn't help replying and laughing:"J-j-j-just as w-w-well. But where's the s-s-s-s-sheep and l-l-lamb inthe case?"

Montgomery did not now resent her imitation of his very tone. He evencondescended to laugh back; then ungallantly remarked: "I wish y-y-you'dgo h-h-home. "

"Meaning to Aunt Eunice's. That's exactly what I want to do. So let's beoff. "

"I s-s-said y-you, " corrected Master Sturtevant, rising and taking a fewcautious steps to test the state of his legs. He found them usable, though rather wobbly about the knees, and would have started off acrossthe ravine's bottom had not Katharine caught and held him. She washerself shivering violently, but only from the cold of an autumnmidnight, against which her light summer dress was small protection. Sheached from long sitting on the stony ground, and from holding the heavyshoulders of her companion. She was frightened by the lateness of thehour and the intense loneliness of the place; and she felt that she hadsacrificed herself for just the very meanest boy who ever lived. Thoughshe was not a girl who often cried, tears came then, and that worst ofall feelings--homesickness--seized her and turned her faint. 

Poor Monty! Here was a situation, indeed, for a boy who despised girls!Yet also a boy who was a gentleman by birth; so that, while his firstimpulse was to run away, his second was to offer such comfort as hecould. 

"W-w-what you cryin' for, a-a-anyway? I-I-I'm all right, I guess. "

"Well, if you are, I'm not. I'm just as anxious to go home as you are, only how can I? I don't know the way, and I'm afraid. I'm afraid ofeverything! Of that terrible forest, of Aunt Eunice's anger, of herrefusing to keep me and sending me off to that boarding-school, of--Oh, dear! I wish I was back in Baltimore!"

Never had the cold countenance of the second Mrs. John or those of theround little Snowballs seemed so humanly lovable to Katharine as theydid at that moment, remembering them in her banishment. 

"F-f-fudge! Q-q-quit it! If we're goin' to get scolded for part, might'swell b-b-be for the w-w-w-whole. 'Tain't far to the pool. We can gof-f-fishin', after all, if you behave. I th-th-thought you was good as aboy, an'--Will you?"

Kate dried her eyes. She didn't enjoy grief, and the prospect of anynovelty was delightful. She forgot that she was cold, that it was lateand she was where she should not have been at such an hour, andexclaimed, with an eagerness equal to Montgomery's own:

"Oh, let's! I never went fishing in my life!"

"Come on, t-th-then!" cried the relieved lad, now readily taking hercold hand and setting off with all the speed he could attain. 

The moon was shining brilliantly, making every object as distinct asday, and to the city-reared girl the scene was like fairy-land. Herspirits rose to the highest, and none the less, it may be, because allthe time she was conscious of a certain daring and danger in theirescapade; and her pace more than outstripped Monty's as they crossed theshort distance to the river, warming themselves by their own speed, andlistening intently for the sound of voices which should have reachedthem long before. 

"Oh, I'm so delightfully goose-fleshy! This is the most thrillingadventure of my life! I begin to feel as if I were part of a story-bookmyself, like all the rest of Marsden!" said Kate, half-breathless withrunning, when her mate came to a sudden halt among the shadows of thetrees beside the famous pool. 

"S-s-s-sh!" warned the other, leaning forward at the risk of a tumbleinto the still, deep water, listening and peering up and down thestream. Then, with disappointment depicted in every line of hissuddenly weary body, he gloomily stammered: "Th-th-th-they've gonehome!"

There was nothing left but for themselves to follow; but surely, therewere never fields so wide and rough as these over which MasterSturtevant now guided Katharine; herself, also, so tired from her day oftravel and her night of adventure; and finally, feeling as if thestubble pierced every inch of her thin shoes, and that she could endurethe discomfort no longer, she begged:

"Oh! please do go by some road, and not on this grass any longer. "

"Huh! 'T-t-tain't grass. Oat-st-st-stubble, " he explained, doggedlykeeping on his way, which he knew was shorter, and for the furtherreason that he could rid himself of her at Miss Maitland's back gardenfence. From there he meant to make his own rapid transit to hisgrandmother's low kitchen roof and through a window to his bed, as hefondly hoped, forgotten and unobserved. He didn't intend that anystrange girl should throw all his plans agley, for she had done morethan mischief enough already. Yet even as he spoke, he looked furtivelyaround and was dismayed to see how white she was, and how big andtroubled her dark eyes were. Fudge! They were even larger and finer thanhis own blue ones, yet she had not once seemed conscious of the fact. 

It was the Madam's opinion that "blood would tell, " and the good bloodof many past Sturtevants stirred now in their descendant's veins, rousing his unselfishness, and making him say:

"F-f-fudge! You look b-b-beat out. I'll go the road, all right. I don'tm-m-m-mind it--m-m-much, not much;" for even chivalry could not preventthis last truthful word of regret. 

So by the road they went; and by the road--retribution came. Nemesis inthe form of Moses Jones; no longer in a mood to be "uncled" by any boy, not even Montgomery, and in his sternness grown almost unfamiliar. Hewas not alone. Two neighbors were with him, and, despite the fact thatthe moon was shining, all three men carried lighted lanterns. They wereovercoated and muffled to a degree, and Moses' first action was tounfold a great shawl which he had carried on his shoulder, and wrap Katein it. He did this in silence, not so much as asking "by your leave, "and not observing that he was smothering her at the same time. Then hetook hold of her arm through the folds of the shawl, and, facing about, started back along the route he had come. 

They were well outside the village limits, and a weary tramp yet laybefore them, the longer strides of the men taxing the fatigue of thechildren, till it seemed to them both as if they must fall by the way. That terrible silence, too, and the firm grip of her arm, made Katewonder if Mr. Jones had suddenly become a constable in fact, and if shewere the first victim to be arrested. Once she wriggled herself freefrom her captor's hand, only to find herself again secured and even morerigidly. 

As for poor Montgomery, the pain and confusion had returned, and hecould think of nothing save that tormenting headache. His temple wasswollen and throbbing, and the one idea he still retained was a longingfor rest. It seemed to him that he had been hurried and tramping alongever since he was born. That never had he done a single thing besideslifting one heavy foot after another and planting each a bit fartheralong that glaring road. The lanterns bobbed about outrageously, as ifthey were trying to make him more dizzy still; and he scarcely knew whenthey entered the now deserted village street and came to a halt at MissMaitland's gate. 

There, he fancied, some women rushed out and grabbed Katharine, for hedimly saw her borne away into the house where more dazzling lights weregleaming. To avoid their bewildering rays he closed his eyes a moment;and when he opened them again he found himself being carried swiftlyhomeward in Moses' strong arms. He being carried! like one of Mis'Turner's babies! More ignominy still. As if his having been coddled andwept over by a strange little girl hadn't been mortifying enough. Buthis own voice sounded queer to him as he tried to say, withunstammering distinctness and dignity:

"You--needn't carry me n-n-none, Un-un-uncle Mose. What you doin' itfor? Put me d-d-down!"

The other two men had vanished, and there was nobody to hear UncleMoses' tender, troubled answer:

"Why, you poor little shaver, lie still. I don't know what's happenedye, nor what sort of scrape you've been in. You an' that t'other one, who's come to turn things topsyturvy. But betwixt the pair of you you'venigh druv two old women crazy, and set the whole village a-teeter. Justbecause I walked through it ringin' a bell an' cryin', like anyrespectable constable would have done if I'd been one, and this 'mostmakes me feel I am, just cryin': 'Child lost! Boy lost! Girl lost!' anda couple the neighborin' men j'inin' in the search, with our lanternslit, sence we didn't know what sort of a hole or ditch you might fellinto--"

"F-F-Foxes' Gully!" exclaimed Montgomery, no longer resisting the reliefof walking on somebody else's feet, so to speak. 

Uncle Moses stopped short, amazed and alarmed. "What? What's that yousay?"

"F-f-fell down it. An' she come to say she was s-s-s-sor-ry. "

"And wasn't killed? Well now, and forever after, I'll believe inguardeen angels! Fell down it an' wasn't killed! But what made ye?Hadn't you any sense? Why, there's been more'n a half-dozen cattlekilled in that plaguey hollow sence I can remember. Yet you wasn't. Well, I'm glad of it, " and though this seemed a very mild expression ofhis satisfaction, the sudden squeeze which Moses gave his burdenemphasized it sufficiently. 

For a few minutes neither spoke again, then Monty suddenly asked: "Howmany you catch, Un-un-uncle Mose?"

"Enough for breakfast. But I missed ye, sonny, I missed ye. An' I'm realglad you wasn't killed. As for that t'other one, I declare, I wish't shehadn't come. 'Peared like Eunice would lose her seventy senses, a-worryin' lest the child take cold or get hurt or somethin'. And thereshe has landed on her feet sound as a cat. Though speakin' of cats, SirPhilip has had the bout of his life, and he looks pretty peaked to me. But here we are to home, an' your grandma ain't likely to scold you noneif you just mention to her 'Foxes' Gully. ' 'Twas one of the Sturtevantcalves got killed there, the very first off, an' she will remember. Asfor me, a respectable hired man, kep' out of my bed like this--why, sonny! Soon's you get over it I'll teach you a lesson you'll remember!"

So, still grumbling and petting, Moses set his burden down in MadamSturtevant's presence, and saw her open her lips to reprove her erringgrandson, then as suddenly close them again and strain the boy to herheart, while her stately figure shook like an aspen. But Moses knew thelady's temperament of old, and how her alternate severity and indulgencehad been bad for the child she idolized, and, fearing that severitymight have the upper hand now, when it was least needed, he remainedlong enough to mention:

"Nothin' much the matter with the little shaver, Madam, only he felldown Foxes' Gully, and is--he's sort of tuckered out. "

Then he quietly withdrew, and of Montgomery Sturtevant he had no furtherglimpse during what he himself termed "a consid'able spell. "

As for Katharine, she was sound asleep long before Moses returned fromMadam Sturtevant's. To the anxiety and reproof with which she had beenreceived, she had, fortunately, but little to say beyond the statementthat, "I went to apologize, and I stayed to--to fish, I guess. " Therelief of being safe indoors again was all she realized, just then, andshe submitted to being warmed, blanketed, and dosed with hot sage tea, with a meek humility that won her pardon. 

Indeed, when at last the dark curls rested on the pillow, and thechildish face softened in slumber, she looked so like Aunt Eunice's lost"little John, " that the lady stooped and kissed her for his sake. Butshe confided to the faithful Widow Sprigg, who had also watched andwaited:

"I'm afraid, Susanna, that our peaceful days are over. While she was outto-night, and I knew not where, and I was so troubled and anxious, Ifelt that it would be wrong, really wrong to burden myself with such acharge. For years her father left me ignorant of how his life waspassing, and it seemed to me he had no right to impose the care of hisdaughter upon me, just because I had once tried to be good to him and hehad once seemed to love me. And I knew it would be hard for you andMoses, too. We're all old together; and to rear another child--such anodd child, at that--I wonder, is it right?"

Now it so chanced that old Susanna had been entirely won by the mannerin which Kate had chosen to be undressed and tended by the servantrather than the statelier mistress. Also, in the old days when "Johnny"had been with them, though the aunt had loved she had, also, reprovedhim; but childless Susanna, whose own little son had died, simply lovedand never reproved. She now answered, promptly:

"Yes, Eunice Maitland, it's as right as right. She wouldn't have beensent if she hadn't been meant, would she? And she's the cut an' driedimage of her own pa, bless him. Send her off? Course you'll do nothin'o' the kind. If you do, I'll leave, an' you can get somebody else totake my place. So there, that's my say-so, an' you're welcome to it. "

At the thought of Katharine's mobile little face being a "cut and driedimage" of anybody Miss Eunice smiled, and her perplexity vanished--forthe time, at least. Then, hearing the kitchen door unclose, sheremarked:

"Well, I hear Moses coming in, and we three old people must get to rest. I am surely obliged to you for the help and comfort you are to me, Susanna, and to Moses, too. We'll do the best we can, and day by day. "

"Certain, Eunice. That's the way to live, an' all's well 'at ends well, as we hope she will--this little orphant thrust upon us without nodruther of our own, an' a bad beginnin' gen'ally makes a good ending;an' I 'low I'd best take one more peek into the sittin'-room chamber, afore I go to bed myself. Good night. Don't worry. I've fixed fish-cakesfor breakfast. "

With which comforting assurance for the morrow, the Widow Sprigg tookherself out of the room, and quiet fell upon the old home. 

CHAPTER V. 

CHESTNUTS AND GOLD MINES

"May I help? I think I could do that. It doesn't look hard, " saidKatharine, wandering into the kitchen where Susanna was seedingraisins--more raisins than the girl had ever seen together, save at agrocer's counter. "What are you doing it for?"

"Fruit-cake. For Thanksgivin' an' Christmas. I ought to of done it longago, but the weather kep' so warm, an' one thing another's hendered. I'mall behind with everything this fall, seems if. I've got to make my softsoap yet, and--Laws, child, what do you lug that humbly dog all roundwith you for? A beast as ugly favored as he is ought to do his ownwalkin', and would, if he belonged to me. "

"That's just why, I suppose. Because he 'belongs. ' And because he isn'told. Not so very. He isn't gray, anyway. "

The Widow Sprigg looked over her spectacles and saw such a dejected facethat she immediately suggested caraway cookies. A delicacy which hadused to bring smiles to "Johnny's" countenance, even after he hadsuffered that worst of all boyish trials, --a "lickin', "--and if therewas anything in heredity should restore cheer to the heart of "Johnny's"daughter. 

"No, thank you. But I'd like to help. I shall--shall burst if I don't dosomething mighty soon, " said Kate, excitedly. "I am hungry, but it's forfolks, not cookies. And why do you make cake for Christmas now when it'sforever and ever before it will come?"

"'Tain't so much for Christmas. Marsden folks don't set no great storeby any other holiday than Thanksgivin'. Another why is that fruit-cakeain't fit to put in a body's mouth afore it's six seven months old atthe least. This here won't be worth shucks, but Eunice says better late'n never, an' if it ain't ripe then t'will be for Easter. We never usedto hear tell of Easter, here in Marsden, till late years. Though Madam, she always kep' it. She's met with a change of heart, however, sence shebecame a Sturtevant, an' I'd ruther you wouldn't mention it, as comin'from me, but--" here Susanna leaned forward and whispered, sibilantly--"they say she used to be a Catholic when she was a girl!Nobody lays it up ag'in her, an' folks pertend they've forgot it; and ifthere is a good Christian goin', I 'low it's Madam Elinor Sturtevant. Your Aunt Eunice--though she ain't your real aunt at all, only thirdcousin once removed--she was promised to Schuyler Sturtevant, Madam'shusband's brother, but he was killed out on a fox-hunt, an' she ain'tnever married nobody sence. That's one why she an' Madam are such goodfriends, most like sisters; as they would have been hadn't things turnedout different. But there, my suz! Don't stan' there lookin' so wishful. Put the dog in the lean-to an' shut the door. There's a strong air comesthrough it an' I feel it, settin' still. Then you can tie my check apernover your white frock. Don't you never wear no other kind of clothes, Katy? 'Cause I don't know who'll do your washin' an' ironin', if youdon't. "

Having finished a certain portion of the raisins, Susanna rose, washedher hands and tied the apron around Katharine's neck, bringing thestrings forward under the arms with such firmness that the band chokedthe girl, and made a puffy blouse of the gingham. The whole arrangementwas so uncomfortable that it was promptly taken off and hung upon itsnail. 

"I can't endure that, you know. If I must wear an apron, like a coon, I'll have one that fits. Why do I need it, anyway? This dress is onlywhite piqué, and wears like iron. I heard stepmother say so when shegave it to the dressmaker. She never bought me anything but piqués andducks and things that would stand wearing without tearing. I mean--MayI do this many?"

Susanna fairly snatched the dish away and shook her helper's fingersfree from the cluster of raisins she had lifted, exclaiming:

"Why, I am surprised at you, Katharine Maitland! You takin' a bath everymornin', in cold water, too, an' keepin' yourself so tidy all the time, to go an' stun raisins after handlin' a dog! Wash 'em, an' clean yournails with this pin, an' tie that apern back--loose if you want--butwear it you must, or I won't be responsible for no smutch you get onyou. Here's your basin for the hull ones; an' here's an earthen bowl forthem 'at's done, an' a penknife to do 'em with. I declare! It's morework to get you ready to 'help' than 'twould be to do it all myself. "

Katharine's spirits rose. Though she blushed at the reprimand foruntidiness, a kind of reproof she seldom deserved, she was so accustomedto corrections that she scarcely listened to any, and sprang to a seaton the end of the great table with an outburst of rollicking "rag-time"song. 

Safe to say that that sort of music had never before been heard withinthe dignified walls of that old mansion, and though Susanna wasdelighted to see "Johnny's girl" happy again, she was, also, somewhatshocked. 

"Why--why, Katy! What's that you're saying? Don't sound like reg'larEnglish. Not like 'Old Lang Syne, ' nor 'The Old Oaken Bucket, ' nor'Send Round the Bowl, '--nor--My suz, child! What be you doin'?"

"Just, 'Sendin' Round the Bowl, ' since you like it!" cried Kate, hilariously spinning the receptacle which had been given her for the"stunned raisins" across the table to where Susanna sat; then adding, mischievously, "And that's the first time that I knew that 'Old LangSyne' was good English; I thought it was Scotch. As for 'rag-time, ' allpapa's friends said I could do it excellently well. You see, I wasbrought up with the coons and can mimic them easily. And you should seeme do a cake-walk. I will after I've helped you awhile. "

Susanna looked rather foolish at being herself set right. She had neveraspired to much literary knowledge, but she did know that the wordsKatharine had sung were senseless, though they might sound funny. Tocover her annoyance she demanded, rather crisply:

"What do you mean by 'coon' and 'duck'? Your pa always had odd notions, but I never 'lowed his daughter'd be raised with coons and ducks andanimals of that natur'. I give him credit for some sense, even if he didpaint pictures for a living. "

Katharine's eyes flashed, then softened till they were on the verge oftears, and she announced with a finality that brooked no contradiction:

"My father was the sensiblest, cleverest, dearest gentleman that everlived. If I didn't come 'up' as I was 'brought' it wasn't his fault. AndI'd rather not talk about him--not yet. Not to-day. 'Coons' are thecolored people. Baltimore's full of them. They're our servants. Stepmother says they're worthless, nowadays, and I know she was alwayschanging them. But they're the only kind we have down there. We couldn'tget nice white ones like you. Why--what's the matter?"

The Widow Sprigg had risen very suddenly. Her face had flushed and aglitter come into the eyes behind the big spectacles, while her lips hadclosed with a sort of cluck. Leaning across the table, she demanded:

"Give me that bowl, please. I don't need no more your help. "

Katharine extended the bowl, as desired, her own face clouding again atsight of the other's darkened one. And she fairly jumped as thehousekeeper asked:

"Where's the raisins?"

"Oh! the raisins? Why--I hadn't begun yet. I ate the few I seeded. I'llbegin now. I can work right smart if I try. "

"Huh! go clean yourself an' clear out. I like to have my kitchen tomyself. "

Kate leaped from the table, having that odd homesickness stealing overher again, and as much to dispel her own gloom as to keep her word, which she never broke if she could possibly help it, she cake-walkeddown the long kitchen with the gravest of faces and the most ludicrousof gestures. Down and back, down and back, head thrown sidewise over hershoulder, body bent at an angle which threatened a tumble backwards, andher feet alternately tossing the engulfing apron high on this side, thenon that, and now become utterly oblivious of Susanna in her earnestnessto distinguish herself--the girl seemed the absurdest creature it hadever been the housekeeper's lot to see. 

She still felt insulted by Katharine's term of "servant, " but could notrepress a smile, and turned into the pantry to hide that telltaleweakness. 

Looking in through that same pantry window, his mouth agape, his eyestwinkling, was her housemate and natural enemy, Moses. Hitherto he hadtaken slight notice of the small new member of the household, and Katehad been rather afraid of him. It would, therefore, be killing two birdswith one stone, or punishing two annoying people at one time, to pairthem off together, thought Susanna, remarking:

"Well, Mr. Jones, when you get done staring at the monkey-shines of thatyoung one you can just take her in charge a spell. Goin' to thewood-lot, ain't ye?"

"You know I be. Said so at breakfast, didn't I? Silly women always dohave to have idees druv into their heads, like nails, 'fore they canclinch 'em. Eunice 'lowed that we'd ought to have a lot more smallsticks chopped, " answered the man who managed the estate but waspresumably managed himself by Miss Maitland. He had his axe over hisshoulder, and had merely stopped at the pantry window, kept open for hisbenefit, to take a drink from the pail of buttermilk which stood there. 

"Well, Eunice has gone down to Madam's. And I've no time to bother, andyou'll have to take her 'long with ye. If she ain't under somebody's eyeno tellin' what'll happen. Harm of some kind, sure's you're born. "

Moses was about to retort and decline, but a second glance at the child, who had now finished her cake-walk and was listening to her elders, reminded him that, as yet, he had heard no details of that night'sescapade when his beloved Monty had so wonderfully come out safe fromperil of death. This had been some days before, and rumor had it thatthe lad was still confined a prisoner in his chamber. Whether because ofreal illness or for punishment, nobody knew, nor dared anybody questionthe dignified Madam. Eunice had heard the rumor that morning and hadimmediately gone to see her friend and offer her own service as nurse, should nursing be necessary. Therefore, it was more to please himselfthan oblige Susanna, that he called through the window:

"Sissy, do you like chestnuts?"

"Oh, I love them! Why? And please, please don't call me 'Sissy. ' Itmakes me feel so silly. My name is Katharine Maitland, though at home--"there came a little catch in her throat, which nobody elseobserved--"they used to call me 'Kitty Quixote, '" answered the girl, running to the window, and looking through the half-closed blind to thehired man. 

"Hm-m. Ke-ho-ta. Kehota? Kee-ho-tee? Why, I thought I knew the Maitlandfamily, root an' branch, twists an' turns an' ramifications, but I neverheerd tell of a Keehotey amongst 'em. Not even 'mongst their wives'folks, nuther. Your own ma was a Woodley, and your pa's second was aSnowball, Eunice says, so how happens--"

"Oh, you dear, funny old fellow! Quixote wasn't any of our folks, but afiction-y man, who was always doing chivalrous things in the wrongplace, or where there was no occasion, as papa said--just like me. Waittill I come, please. I'll put on my hat and jacket and be back in aminute. For I've guessed what you mean about liking chestnuts. I'm to goto the wood-lot with you and gather them for myself. And I never, never, never in all my life gathered chestnuts! I've just bought themfrom the stands. "

Away she flew, leaving Susanna rather doubtful of the success of herintended punishment. From present appearances Katharine was going toenjoy a morning in the woods with Moses far better than she would havedone in the kitchen seeding raisins. 

"An' she must have et as much as two whole bunches, even in that littlespell. So, after all, it's a good thing for the cake, 'lowin' 't we wantto have it rich in fruit, that she is goin'. But Eunice will have to seeabout her clothes. The idee! Wearin' white every day same as if it wasSunday in the summer-time. She told Eunice that her stepmother thoughtwhite was the sensiblest, for it would wash and bile, and she alwaysneeded bilin'. But she looks real peart, and sort of different set-upfrom Marsden girls in that little blue flannel suit she wore to come in. Dress an' coat an' hat all the same color, an' fittin' her's if she'dbeen run into 'em, yet easy-loose, too, an' not a bit of trimming onanything, " continued Widow Sprigg with herself, having none otherpresent with whom to commune; and, as Katharine reappeared, garbed inthe same blue coat and hat, with her short dainty skirts showing belowthe coat and her face now glowing with anticipation, remarking aloud:"Well, your step-ma may not have been any great shakes forpleasantness, but she did manage to make you look real neat. "

"Oh, she had beautiful taste! Everybody said that. When she was dressedto go out herself she always looked so just right that nobody could tellwhat at all she wore; and that, papa said, was the perfection ofdressing. Indeed, do you suppose that my father, an artist, could havemarried a person who would offend his eye all the time? Why, what isthat for, Susanna?"

While Katharine had been discussing her stepmother, the widow had beenfilling a quaint, old-fashioned, tight covered basket with carawaycookies and a red apple. The basket had a wreath of flowers painted onits sides and another on its cover. It was carried by two slenderhandles, and was unlike any which Kate had ever seen. 

"There, deary, that is a lunch to eat whilst you're in the woods; crispair makes a body hungry. Moses'll show you where the spring is, andthere's a gourd dipper hangs by it to drink out of. But take dreadfulcare the basket. It was your own pa's meetin' one. "

"My father's 'meeting one. ' What was that? and how fearfully old it mustbe. 'Cause he ran away when he was a little boy, only a year or so olderthan I am now. "

"He was old enough to have had more sense, and so're you. A'meetin'-basket' was a basket to take to meetin', course. What else yousuppose? We didn't have two three hours betwixt times, them days. Wewent in the morning and stayed till the afternoon service was over. Wetook our dinners with us an' et 'em on the graves in the graveyard backthe church. Moses an' Eunice an' me gen'ally took all we needed in thebig willow, but the childern liked their own by themselves. They used toeat in the hollow below the graveyard, and if any of 'em got too noisy, or played games wasn't Sabbath ones, one the deacons or head men wouldgo down an' stop 'em. Oh, childern was raised right in them days, an'grown folks, too!"

This was all very interesting, and Katharine received the old roundbasket, which her dead father's boyish hands must have treated gently, indeed, to have left it so well preserved, with a reverent feeling thathe must be there and see her. She hoped he did. She wanted him to knowthat she was back in his old home, following the haunts which he hadloved, knowing the very same people who had cared for him. She wondered, as many an older person has wondered, if he did know, and she put thequestion eagerly to Susanna, who was herself so old and should, therefore, be so wise. 

"Oh, Widow Sprigg! Do you believe he can see me, does know, is glad? Doyou suppose that right now, while I hold this basket, his basket, uphigh toward the sky, careful and loving and not afraid, he is lookingdown and loving, too? _Do_ you?"

Susanna pushed her spectacles very high, indeed, that she might betterobserve this strange child who now confronted her with gleaming eyes andthat exalted expression; and the face startled her. She was not muchused to children, and this one was of a sort so novel that she made oneuncomfortable. She'd have given "Johnny's girl" the old egg-basketinstead of this "meeting" one, could she have foreseen results. But shecould and did bring the girl out of the clouds with the exclamation:

"My suz! You're enough to give a body the creeps. All I meant was thatJohnny was a good boy and took care. If you want to be like him you'lltake care, too. When he didn't take care, it was Moses' business to lickhim, an' if you keep him much longer at that lane gate, he'll feel likelickin' you, too. So, off with you. "

Katharine lowered the basket. Also, lowered her gaze from the ceiling ithad seemed to pierce till it rested on the old woman's face. What shesaw there was something very different from what the harsh words hadsuggested, and, with an impulse of affection, she threw her arms, basketand all, about Susanna's neck and kissed her ecstatically. 

Poor Widow Sprigg caught her breath and gasped it back again before hersurprise allowed her to say: "There, there, deary, run along. Don'tkeep Moses waitin' a minute longer. He'll be terrible cross. Yes, youcan take Punchy. I'd ruther you'd take him 'an not, for Sir Philip lookspeakeder 'n ever to-day. The very sight o' that humbly dog 'pears tomake him sick. After you've et your cookies you can put your chestnutsin the basket to fetch 'em home--if you get any. "

Moses had lost his patience, as was to be expected, but he soon regainedgood nature while Katharine related to him all that her father had oncetold her of the famous Don Quixote for whom he had nicknamed her. Then, in turn, he pointed out to her the old meeting-house and graveyard, longsince disused, where the Marsdenites had repaired to take their Sundaylunch. 

"But it was so--so funny! So absurd, so sort of--of ghastly, wasn't it?But what a perfectly glorious place for a hallowe'en party--if there wasanybody to give a party to. I wish there was somebody to play with, Uncle Moses. "

Moses ignored the wish. He was not anxious that Katharine should enlargeher acquaintance, which would mean more trouble for all concerned. Hemerely continued to discourse upon the ancient customs, of how not onlydid the people bring their dinners to the church, but the mothers theirbabies, with rocking-chairs furnished galore by the congregation, andranged in the roomy vestibule. There the mothers could sway theiroffspring gently to and fro without losing their own religiousprivileges or disturbing anybody. 

Kate listened in silence till a bend of the road hid the meeting-housefrom view, then exclaimed:

"I can see the whole picture. I mean to paint it when I grow up. But Ishall give the babies cherubic faces, like the old masters, because Isuppose most of them are angels now. I hope they know I'm thinking aboutthem, and I wonder if papa sees any of them there, up in heaven. What doyou think?"

Even as Susanna had done, the hired man stared at Katharine, saying:

"I think--I don't know what I do think! I think I know some of thembabies that grew up to be anything but angels. If they'd been made intoangels a little earlier in their lives 'twould ha' been better forMarsden, an' I shouldn't feel it my painful duty to 'rest 'em when I getto be constable--if ever I'm elected, " and then Moses sighed soprofoundly that Katharine's thoughts flew from this old-timereminiscence to the present day's ambitions. Slipping her hand softlyinto the one of his that swung at his side, she gave it a littlesqueeze, and asked:

"Do you awfully want to be a constable? Just awfully, Uncle Mose?"

There was so much of sympathy in the small face at his elbow that Mr. Jones was caught unawares. 

"Well, 'Kitty Keehoty, ' wild horses wouldn't have drug it out of me toanybody else; but I don't mind lettin' on to you, just you, that I'dadmire to be one. I'd like it real well. But, that's nuther here northere. Likin' things an' havin' 'em is as different as chalk an' cheese. An' here we be to the woods. The best chestnut-trees is yender, the bestshellbarks t'other way. 'Tain't time for hickories yet, not till aheavier frost comes, but chestnuts you've got to get early if you getany at all. The squirrels an' boys are smart round this way. Why, 'mostevery year they gather Eunice's nuts off her own trees, then march up toher front door an' sell 'em to her. Fact. An' the silly woman onlylaughs an' says she don't begrudge 'em a little pocket-money. An' shedon't need. Eunice is real forehanded, Eunice is; and does seem 't themore she gives away the more comes in. Now, I'll cut a saplin'-pole an'thrash a tree for you. Then, whilst I'm choppin' down in that clump ofpines over there, you can be pickin' up nuts. Make up your mind to prickyour fingers with the burrs. A body has to fight for most anything worthwhile. "

"Oh, if I only had somebody to pick them up with me!" sighed Kate, asshe fell to work. Then her thoughts travelled far afield, for adelightful notion had taken possession of her, and her young brain wasteeming with a scheme so great it was--well, it was fully worthy ofitself. 

Almost unconsciously she gathered the fallen chestnuts, scarcelyrealizing the novelty of the task so absorbed was she in her suddenQuixotic project. Yet, as she groped among the brown leaves at the footof her tree, her fingers came in contact with something wholly differentfrom chestnuts or their thorny burrs. It was hard as a stone, yet itwasn't a stone. It was half-buried in the leaf-mold and moss, though therain of the previous night had washed it free in one corner. 

That corner glistened so that it dazzled the digger's eyes, and sheexclaimed aloud:

"Oh, I've found a gold mine! Right here in Aunt Eunice's woods. I mustget this great piece of gold out and take it to her. And I won't tellanybody, not anybody, not even Uncle Moses, till I've told her. Forwhatever is in her woods must be hers, of course. "

Away went the last great scheme, which had been wholly connected withMr. Jones and his aspirations for town office; and up rose another farmore gigantic, by which everybody who was poor, "everybody in the wholewide world, " should benefit. For, of course, the mine was to beinexhaustible, and Aunt Eunice would be able to give away moneyhereafter without stint or measure. 

If only she could get out that first great shining lump of gold!

And at last it was out, yet, after all, no gold whatever. Somethingalmost as splendid, though, since this was a mystery. A mystery with acapital M! For if there were no mystery in the matter why should anybodyhide that strangely shaped, glittering brass bound box beneath achestnut-tree?

CHAPTER VI. 

THE BRASS BOUND BOX

A moment later Kate had sped through the wood to the spot where Moseswas chopping, exclaiming:

"Oh, Mr. Jones, I've got to go home, back to Aunt Eunice's right away, quick. Is there a shorter way than we came, or can I find that bymyself? Please tell me, quick, quick!"

Moses paused in his work and looked at the girl in great surprise. Noneof his fishing-mates, if given such a chance as she had, would have gonehome till driven there; for the chestnuts had rattled out of their burrsat a fine rate when he had threshed the trees, and it was impossiblethat she should have gathered all or even many. 

"Why, little Keehoty! Tired a'ready? An' I was plannin', by an' by, tomake a speck of fire in a safe place I know an' roast some the nuts. Ever et hot roast chestnuts out in the woods?"

"No, no, never! Oh, dear! I'd like to. It--it makes me terribly hungryto hear you speak of them, but--I must go home. Something has happened. Something so important, I must, I must. Is there a shorter way? And if Igo by myself shall I meet a tramp?"

"'Tramp!' Bosh! That's Susanna's foolishness put into your head a'ready. I only wish I could see a tramp, just to know the breed. But what is itso important, if you please?"

"I can't tell you. "

Moses whistled. "That's plump spoke, anyhow. Why can't ye? Are you sick?Got a pain anywheres? Pep'mints are good for the stummick-ache, an' Ialways carry a few in my pocket. See?" said the kindly old man, pullingforth a paper bag and alluringly displaying its pink and white contents. 

But to his further surprise Katharine declined the "pep'mints" andindignantly denied the stomach ache, declaring that she must go home andat once, and asking "which way first. "

"Foller your nose, I reckon, " retorted Mr. Jones, rather testily. He hadenjoyed the tale of Don Quixote, had taken a sudden fancy to Katharine, had discovered that she knew "Oh, lots and lots more of stories just asdelightful, " and had intended to do a small amount of chopping that day, but a large amount of resting. The forest was in a glory of color, theair was "mild as midsummer, " and in his capacious pocket he had broughthis "tackle. " His axe would furnish a couple of rods, and Katharineshould have her first lesson at angling in the near-by brook, wheretrout were plentiful, it mattering little to this embryo constable whatthe game laws were; and it would have amazed him to learn that had hebeen in office he would have had to fine himself as the first, chief, and habitual trespasser. Now all this pleasant prospect was altered, andMoses "never liked to have his 'rangements upsot. "

"Nor do I. Oh, dear! The more you talk the more I want to stay, and thevery more I mustn't. Good-by, I'm going. You can have the caraway cakesand the red apple, and please, please take care my father's'meetin'-basket. '"

But he laid a detaining hand upon her arm, and demanded:

"First tell me what you've got under your jacket!"

At her mention of the "meeting-basket" he had glanced across to thechestnut-trees and had seen that precious receptacle carefully hung upona low branch out of harm's way. Yet here was the girl, hiding somethingbeneath her long blue coat, and acting as if she had great ado to keepit there. It must have been a heavy, slippery something, because all thewhile she talked she kept hitching it up and clenching it till herknuckles turned white under the strain. 

"I can't tell you, please, " was the exasperating reply, as she wriggledher arm free and set off at a swift pace. 

Again Moses whistled, but now in disappointment rather than surprise. Hewould have stoutly denied that he, a man, was possessed of curiositysuch as he attributed wholly to "silly women, " yet it is certain that hesuddenly found the beautiful forest a disagreeable place, and reflectedthat it was his duty to follow the young stranger. 

"She's queer actin', at the best, an' sharp as a razor; but what capershe's up to now beats me. Eunice ain't to home, an' Susanna never hadsense. If there's anything goin' on there'd ought to be a man 'roundwith some sort of judgment in his head. Don't know what need there isfor more small wood bein' cut, anyway. We've got two woodsheds full ofkindlin' a'ready, besides the big ones of cord-wood for the reg'larfires. We could stand a siege an' not suffer, though Eunice never doesfeel content 'less she's got fuel enough ahead to last two years. Hm-m. It's gettin' too hot to chop, anyway. Must be Indian summer comin' on, though I claim 'tain't due till November. Susanna, now, _she_ saysOctober, an' Eunice, _she_ calls that warm spell we always have thefirst the winter an Indian summer. Seems if there was as many Indiansummers as there was folks, most, but I don't care. It's somethin' orother warm enough to-day, an' I'll go home. I can set in the barn an'sort apples. That won't be a heatin' job, an' 'll give me a chance tohave an eye on things. Oh, hum! I wish Monty would happen along. Strange! how I miss that worthless, stutterin', big-hearted littleshaver! I wouldn't offer to take _him_ fishin' more'n once without bein'took up on my word. "

His cogitations at an end, his belongings secured, and his little-usedaxe again over his shoulder, Moses went down to the chestnut-tree andsecured the "meeting-basket. " But he was surprised to see how the leavesat the foot of it had been scattered about, and that there was a hole inthe ground itself. There was also in this hole the imprint of somethingsquare and solid, for the moist leaf-mold still retained the shape ofthe brass bound box, and heaped at one side were the nuts Kate hadcollected ready to put in the basket when once it should be empty. 

"Must ha' been somethin' 'important, ' sure enough, or she'd never haveleft them nuts. Well, I guess I can store 'em in my pockets, an' I'llcoax her secret, whatever 'tis, out of her by givin' them back to her, "mused this incurious man. 

As fast as she could, and keeping an occasional glance upon certaintrees she remembered, Kate made her way back through the wood. But itseemed confusing now and the ground rough. Coming in she had thought theferns and fallen branches "mighty pretty, " but going out they hinderedher. The box, too, was heavy and difficult to hold, though as soon asshe was out of sight of Moses she took it from beneath her coat andbalanced it upon her arm. Then she laughed at her own precaution, thinking how foolish she had been to hide it, for, of course, he wouldknow about it eventually. 

"Only it is Aunt Eunice's, and I want her to see it first of all. Iwonder what is in it. And I wish it wasn't quite so heavy. Can it befilled with gold? or diamonds, maybe. Oh, if it were diamonds--think!Oh, dear! there goes my shoe-string untied again, and it trips me up so. I must stop and tie it and see if I am going right. Seems as if I oughtto see that old church by this time, yet the trees are just as thick asever--or thicker. Now, old string, I'll knot you so tight you'll botherme no more till I go to bed. "

Placing the strangely fashioned box or casket carefully on a largestone, Katharine flung herself down to tie her shoe. Which, having done, and finding her position restful, it was natural that her imaginationshould dwell upon the treasure she had found; and once at herday-dreams, Kate was very apt to forget other things. Nor did she rousefrom her reverie till somebody close at hand demanded:

"I-I-I say! W-w-what's that?"

Instantly upon her feet she faced the intruder, vainly trying to hidewith her short skirts the glittering casket, as she demanded, in return:

"How dare you come upon a person that way? Why--you might havefrightened me into a fit. I don't like to be scared. "

"Oh, f-f-fudge! I saw you if you d-d-didn't see me. What is t-t-that?"

Katharine coolly sat down upon the casket and thus effectually screenedit from view. "I thought you were sick, or--or shut up. Aunt Eunice wentto see if you needed nursing. "

Montgomery sat down beside her. The small boulder upon which she hadplaced the box was round, and it was difficult to maintain one'sposition upon it without slipping. Doubly difficult if one were perchedupon a sharp-angled cube, and one's piqué skirt was stiffly starched. Hecomprehended the situation and meant to be upon the spot when theslipping occurred. He really didn't care very much to know what she washiding, but was grateful for a chance to tease somebody. 

During the few days of his retirement he had not enjoyed that privilege. The fact was that it was Alfaretta, not he, who had been ill; and thathe had been promoted--or degraded--to her position in the household. Itall depended upon the point of view; his grandmother maintaining that heshould feel proud to have the chance of serving her, who was unable, orunaccustomed to serving herself, and he feeling that to be tied up in agirl's pinafore and with bared arms set to washing dishes, peelingpotatoes, and scrubbing floors was a disgrace. In vain did the statelyold gentlewoman show him by her example that one could cook and cleanand still be dignified; her grandson remained unconvinced andrebellious. He didn't believe that poor Alfaretta was sick. He knew shewas shamming just to get out of her work and make him do it for her. Andas for his being set to carry trays to a bound-out girl from thealmshouse--that was the bitterest drop in his cup of woe. He had beensternly prohibited from "hectoring" the little maid, and the prohibitionsat heavily upon him. So heavily, indeed, that no matter who had crossedhis path when he was again liberated, that person was doomed to sufferwhat Alfy had been spared. 

That person proved to be "Kitty Quixote, " never more worthy of her namethan as she sat in the forest dreaming marvellous dreams of the future;of wrongs to be righted, of poverty banished, and all dependent upon theunknown contents of a brass bound box. Under other circumstances shewould have rejoiced to see Montgomery, as the only young creature of herown species yet met in Marsden, but not with this wonderful mystery uponher mind. When he had appropriated a full half of her boulder, uninvited, she waited a moment, then icily inquired:

"Where are you going?"

"N-n-n-nowhere. "

"That's a good place. When?"

"Oh, b-b-bime-by, " answered the lad, with easy indifference. 

"You might be late, " suggested Katharine, sweetly, yet inwardly longingto mimic his stammering speech. 

Then, all at once, she began to slide. There had been no perceptiblemovement on Montgomery's part. Assuming an indifference as great as hisown, Katharine had leaned forward to inspect her second shoe-string, andafterward attempting to regain her former uprightness, felt, instead, that she was slipping downward. She landed angrily upon her feet, and, facing about, she upbraided him as a "rude, unmannerly boy. "

However, the mischief was done, her secret was out. Monty forgot hisdesire to "plague her" in his surprised curiosity. Bending over the boxhe examined it critically, and finally announced:

"T-t-that's the most b-b-beautifullest thing I ever saw. W-where'd youget it?"

"Found it. But it isn't mine. It's Aunt Eunice's, and I think you arehorrid mean. I didn't want a person should know anything about it till Icould put it into her own hands, and then you went and came. Now thewhole charm of it is gone. Oh, dear!"

Montgomery ignored her unflattering remarks, and, lifting the casket, exclaimed:

"H-h-h-heavy! H-h-heavier 'n lead. What you s-s-s-suppose is in it?Where'd you find it? W-w-w-when?"

Since secrecy was no longer possible, Kate was only too glad to telleverything, and now all desire for teasing had left the listener. He waseven ashamed that he had forced the girl from the rock, though glad ofthe result, and in another instant both tongues were busy withspeculation concerning the astonishing find. 

"It's so queer. It has no opening that I can see, for this broad bandaround the middle looks perfectly smooth, as if it were all in onepiece. The band won't slip down nor up. The corners, the brass tips, don't budge. It's a perfect cube--let's measure. Yes. Just as big oneway as another. The wood is as fine as satin and looks as if it had beenpolished to the last degree. Do you suppose it is brass or gold thattrims it? And where, where did it come from? The earth on it was sofresh I don't believe that it had been buried but a little while, andoh, I'm just wild to know all about it. Come on. Let's go home. You maycarry it part of the time. But don't drop it. Don't, for your life!"chattered the girl, placing the box in Monty's outstretched palms andanxiously regarding his manner of holding it. 

His face was a study. Boys, in general, are supposed to be intenselypractical and less gifted with imagination than girls, but this is amistake. Youth is the time for air-castle building, and whether it belad or lass who "dreams" there is but little difference. Poor Monty!Unable to put his soaring thoughts into speech as his companion soreadily could, he had to be content with just thinking them. But as heturned his beautiful eyes upon her she understood all that he would havesaid and clapped her hands, crying ecstatically:

"Oh, I'm so glad! You're one can make-believe everything lovely, too! Isee it. What fun we'll have! Let's begin at once. We're in the enchantedforest. We've been enchanted ourselves. But the fairy king has come andshown us where to find the magic treasure that will unlock the wholeworld for us and make us back into the real prince and princess that weare all the time, though other people don't know it. He has given us themagic box with the key in it, only he has forgotten to tell us how toopen it. We are on our way now to the Wise Woman. The Wise Woman livesin the stone castle beyond the forest, and she will show us how to openthe box and to use the key. Because the box was hers once, before shegave it to the fairy king to keep for us. She knew that one day weshould come into the forest and that all would happen that has happened. That's what makes her the Wise Woman. She has lived a long, long time. So long that her hair is quite gray and there are wrinkles around hereyes. But the eyes are still clear and gentle and there is a pretty pinkcolor in her cheeks. She wears a soft gray gown with an old-fashionedkerchief crossed over her breast, and sometimes, most always, there is aflower thrust into the lace kerchief. Her hands are white and slenderand blue veined, but they look old, and her voice is sweet and gentlelike her eyes. Yet sometimes--sometimes, when other people who are notat all wise but very troublesome come before the Wise One and displeaseher, a little sharp fire gets into the eyes and a sour little tang intothe voice, and then the Troublesome One wishes she hadn't come!"

They had been walking swiftly toward the village, for to Montgomeryevery step of the way was so familiar that he need not look forlandmarks, and his eyes had remained fixed in fascination upon thegirl's radiant face as she spun this fairy-tale without stop orhesitation. It had been as real to him as to her, but now there cameover him a disappointment even more real. Pausing abruptly on the path, he burst forth, indignantly:

"Oh, f-f-f-fudge! That Wise Woman's nobody but Aunt Eu-Eu-Eu-nice!"

At the same moment something heavy crashed through the underbrush, and aman fell sprawling at their feet. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE GRIT OF MOSES JONES

An axe flew gleaming through the air and Montgomery vanished, the brassbound box with him. 

Katharine was too startled to move, and stood listening to thedistressing, almost blood-curdling groans which issued from the man'slips, as, for a moment, he lay face downward before her. Then sherecognized the apparel of Moses Jones and bent over him pityingly. 

"Why, Uncle Mose! What is the matter?"

For only answer more groans, which presently began to thrill her with anunspeakable terror. What made him do that? What had befallen him? Was hedying, and she alone with him, there in the strange forest? The thoughtwas torture, and, nerving herself to the task, she laid her hand uponhim, though her repugnance to the act was a fresh torment. It had alwaysbeen one of the girl's peculiarities that she could not bear to touchany ailing thing. She would wait upon people who were ill mostcheerfully, even eagerly, but she hated to come in personal contact withthem. It had been so even in the case of her father whom she idolized, and had been one of the small items in stepmother's list against her. But she had heard so much upon the subject then, and of its enormity, that she had set herself to overcome the failing, since failing it was. And had poor Moses known it, she would almost rather have borne his painherself than to have helped him turn upon his back as she did. To domore for him than this was impossible, and again she besought him to sayhow he was hurt. 

Finally, he opened his eyes and glanced about him, then angrily shookhis fist toward a projecting tree-root which had been hidden from hissight by a group of ferns and over which he had stumbled. 

"That's it! That's the mis'able thing 'at done it!" he cried, thengroaned again, but weakly. The pain had suddenly become so severe as toturn him faint while the brilliant branches overhead began to dance andsway before his dizzy sight as no wind could make them do. "I--I'mgettin' light-headed. Help me up, Keehoty. I'm broke. I'm broke all tosmash. My leg--my side--oh, oh, ouch!"

[Illustration: "'I FEEL SO QUEER EVERY LITTLE SPELL, AN' I MUST GETHOME'"]

His increasing pallor frightened Katharine till pity overcamerepugnance, and with a strength unknown before she clasped her armsabout his neck and struggled to lift him to his feet, all the whileprotesting: "You mustn't be broken! You can't be. Just a little crookedroot like that and a big man like you. Not quite so hard, please! Notquite so tight! 'Cause you're pulling me down instead of me you up. There, that's better!"

Susanna had often declared that Moses was "just like ary other man, scared to death if even his little toe ached, " and it was true that hewas so unused to illness that his few attacks of it had alwaysfrightened him. Yet now he realized that something far worse thanordinary had befallen, and that he must rally his grit and his strengthtogether. With an heroic effort he got upon his feet--or foot, for onewas useless, and braced himself against the tree-trunk beside them. 

"Now, sissy, go find an' fetch my axe that got flung off my shoulderwhen I stumbled. I didn't think when I brought it to chop with 'twouldprove a crutch for broken bones. Oh, I wish we wasn't so far from home. I wish you'd kep' in the right road an' not come flarrickin' clear offhere out the beaten track. "

"Why--isn't this the right, the shortest way back?" asked Katharine, surprised. 

"No, 'tain't. I s'pose all trees look alike to city gals, but don't stopto gabble. Find the axe. Pick up your basket. I feel so queer everylittle spell, an' I must get home. That shin-bone's broke, true aspreachin', an' six seven my ribs, by the feel of 'em, for my footwobbles 'round as if it was hung on a string, an' my side! The axe, Keehoty, the axe!"

She found and brought it, weeping bitterly. She had never felt so sorryfor anybody as for this brave old fellow who was now forcing himself toovercome his own misery for the sake of others. For when she begged himto stay still where he was and let her run to the village and bringsomebody to help he vigorously refused. 

"Scare the hull community just 'cause I was fool enough to tumble downand crack my leg? Me, an old woodman, that'd ought to have some sense. An' Eunice! Why, 'twould scare Eunice out of a year's growth to see mefetched home 'stead of walkin' there on my own pins. Half a loaf'sbetter'n no loaf, an' one leg's better'n none. As for my plaguey oldribs--they can take care themselves. But once we get there you just clipit to the doctor's an' have him come 'round an' patch me up. He'll haveto do it so's I can be workin' reg'lar, 'cause I'm the only man thereis. Besides, town meetin's comin' on, an'--My sake! I'm beat!"

Beaten he was into the silence which he had dreaded, wherein he realizedhis own agony. He had kept talking to prevent thinking, but had nowpassed beyond that. By nods and glances he directed Kate along theshortest way, but it seemed to the sufferer as if the familiar big stonehouse grew steadily more distant rather than nearer. 

Katharine never forgot that walk. To her, also, the distance seemedinterminable, and the firm clutch of his hand upon her shoulder for itssupport almost to break her own bones. His face, when she now and thenglanced toward it, was pallid with suffering, but his lips were grimlyshut, defying his own misery. As he shaved only once a week, on Sundaymorning, his half-grown stubble of beard enhanced his pallor, but didnot add to his beauty; and Katharine, reared among city folks who madesuch "Sunday habits" their every-day ones, felt something like disgust. 

"I'm awful sorry for him, but--but he looks horrid. And he hurts me, too. Oh, I wish we had never come into this dreadful forest, pretty asit is; but, joy! there's a house. We'll be in the village soon and athome. What will Aunt Eunice say? And where did that mean boy go?"

As Katharine's thoughts ran on this wise they were steadily thoughslowly passing over the rough ground of the wood to the smoother fieldsbeyond; and as they came in sight of the Maitland barns, there wasMontgomery peeping around a corner and on the lookout for somebody. Hisrelease from confinement at home had been the result of Aunt Eunice'scall, he having been permitted to walk home with her, and to spend theday with Katharine. Alfaretta was recovered and able to do her owndish-washing, and on the Monday the boy must return to school. So Madamhad made him array himself once more in his best attire and had dulyinstructed him how young gentlemen of the Sturtevant race should conductthemselves toward young ladies of the Maitland family. 

Arrived at the stone mansion, Susanna had promptly sent the boy to thewoods to hunt up his playmate, if he desired her, and in any case toremind Moses that he had gone off without killing the chicken fordinner. 

"You tell him to come right straight back here an' do it now, if hewants a bite to eat. I ain't never wrung a fowl's neck nor chopped offher head, nor Eunice hain't, nuther, an' we ain't a-goin' to begin atour time o' life. Killin' poultry or pigs, ary one, is man's work an'not woman's, an' so say to him 't if he wants his dinner he can comekill it. He's gettin' so forgetful lately 't he can't remember nothin''cept fishin', an' though he took his axe along I 'low he'll do morethreshin' nut-trees for that young one than choppin'; an' you remember, Montgomery Sturtevant, that you've got on your Sunday clothes; and nomatter if your rich city relations do give 'em to you without no troubleto you nor your grandma, 'at you ought to take care of 'em and keep 'emclean. Don't go climbin' trees with 'em on, but just pick up what's onthe ground an' you'll eat enough then, fat white worms an' all, to makeyou sick. Katy, she can give you part her cookies, but don't you getcarryin' on with her little basket, 'cause it was her pa's, an' she'sgoin' to set great store by it. Tell him it's half-past nine if it's aminute, an' them old fowls what we're killin' off first is ruther tough. I ought to have her in the pot right now, an' there she ain't caughtyet, runnin' 'round the hen-yard at loose ends, an' I'll try to catchher an' that'll help, an--My suz! if that boy ain't half 'crost thepastur' an' me not done talkin' to him. The sassy thing! If I'd had myway makin' this world there wouldn't have been nobody in it 'cept girls, an' them grown up and come to their gumption. But that hen--I'll trycatch her or she'll never be caught. "

Which was very true; as also the fact that before the garruloushousekeeper had more than suggested "chicken" and "chestnuts, "Montgomery had vanished to set them in train. After all, there might becompensations, he thought, for a day wasted upon a girl's society. Therestill seemed to linger upon his palate the flavor of Aunt Eunice'spullets, from which he had been despoiled by his first enforced callupon her ward, and though he had regretfully heard Susanna say "chicken"without the plural "s, " he knew that, being himself "company, " he wouldget his full share of the fowl, which he trusted might be a large one. 

Which explains his presence in the wood and his lingering in thebarn-yard now, where he could command a first view of any person issuingfrom the forest on the shortest way home. He had retreated here afterwhat he had supposed was a robber had fallen at his feet, and at thecost of a breathless run had preserved the mysterious brass bound boxfrom theft. He had now safely hidden it in the hay-mow, and awaitedKate's return to tell her where. It had been almost beyond his power tokeep the secret from Miss Maitland, even thus long, but loyalty to thediscoverer had restrained him. And at last there she was coming acrossthe pasture, Uncle Moses with her; and what was most astonishing, thepair were leaning upon one another in an intimacy which made Montgomeryfeel rather jealous. 

"F-f-f-fudge! I didn't know he liked g-g-girls! He's got his hand on hers-s-shoulder, an' my, how they do just c-c-cr-creep! Even the pug dogjust bare w-w-waddles, like he's tuckered out, " remarked the watchinglad to Sir Philip, who had taken advantage of the day's warmth to visitthe mouse-infested barn and now lay sunning himself on its southernthreshold. 

But at the name of dog the Angora sniffed the air and withdrew withdignity to his throne indoors. He had already learned that Punch knew agood cushion when he saw it; and, though early provided with one forhimself, preferred the satin couch of Sir Philip to the carpet-coveredone which Susanna declared "plenty good enough for ary dog humbly asthat one. " If Punch secured the cushion first he was not easilydislodged, and since his one great battle the Angora shrank fromcontest. Evidently Sir Philip judged discretion better than valor, andthe behavior of the two animals afforded the family much amusement. 

Thus deserted of all society save his own thoughts, Monty fixed a keenerattention upon the slowly advancing pair, and presently exclaimed:

"F-f-fudge! Somethin's happened. Uncle Mose's leanin' on her; she's ah-h-helpin' him! She's a w-w-w-wav-in' to me like blazes! That's no'how-de-do' salute, that's a 'come r-r-right here' one! He's got hisaxe, looks like, an's l-l-leanin' on it. F-fudge! I bet he's chopped hisfoot 'stead of a t-t-tree!"

Monty's legs flew up and down like the rapidly revolving spokes of awheel as he hurried toward the man and girl. But after one hasty glanceat the feet of Mr. Jones, and seeing no blood on either, he knew thatwhatever was amiss it was not what he had fancied. Without a word heseized the axe from its owner's trembling hand and placed his ownsturdy little shoulder in its place. Katharine was not crying now, buther anxiety altered her appearance strangely, and Moses was wholly pastspeech. Every nerve of his tortured body was strained to reach a spotwhere he could sink down and yield to the dreadful weakness whichassailed him. Even the hard floor of the barn seemed a paradise of rest, and he fixed his eyes upon the wide doorway with a last effort of hiswill. 

He did reach it, but there both will and consciousness gave way to thestrain of the last hour, though the story of his pluck and endurance wasto make him more highly respected in his native town than he had everbeen before. 

When he sank down fainting the children loosed their hold on eitherside, Montgomery standing still in a frightened wonder, but Katehastening indoors for help. Rushing breathlessly into the sitting-roomwhere Miss Eunice was quietly arranging some yellow 'mums in a quaintglass jar, she caught the lady's hand with a vehemence which sent theflowers in one direction, the pretty jar in another. 

"Oh, Aunt Eunice! Come quick, 'cause now he truly must be dead, afterall. Quick, quick!"

"Katharine--my dear! Why will you do such startling things? My preciousjar that has held flowers for us these generations just rescued fromdestruction! And the poor flowers themselves--"

"Oh, don't bother! Please, please come. There's only Monty out there, and I--I did what I could, but he's dead, anyway. "

"Dead, child? Sir Philip dead?" asked Miss Maitland, her thoughtsinstantly reverting to the only ailing member of the household. 

"No, Aunt Eunice, but a person, a man--Uncle Moses. "

Then, indeed, did Eunice's own hand tremble so that she set the jar shehad just preserved back on the mantel while her face paled in distress. But she caught the girl's guiding hand firmly in her own, called toSusanna in the kitchen, and on the brief journey to the "further barn"learned the main facts of the affair. 

Two hours later Katharine and Montgomery sat down in the kitchen to adinner of bread and milk, while over the rest of the house hung astrange silence which made even its former quietude seem noisy bycontrast. Aunt Eunice had gone to lie down, being greatly shaken by thesad accident, which, while being much less tragic than the deathKatharine had reported, was trouble sufficiently serious. In the kitchenchamber above, Moses' own room, they could hear Susanna softly steppingabout in list slippers, only the jar of the floor beams betraying hermovements, and occasionally a muffled voice, strangely unlike the grufftones of the hired man, would float down to them. Sir Philip lay purringhimself to sleep, after a strenuous season of unrest, during whichnobody had had time to protect him from mischievous Punch. As for thelatter, he had been fatigued by his trip to and from the forest, as wellas his manoeuvres with the Angora, and now took his own rest bysleeping with one eye open. 

The children themselves were weary. Katharine from the excitement of themorning, and Montgomery from physical exercise. He had never done somany useful things in his life as he had crowded into the space of twoshort hours. It was he who had summoned the doctor, run back and forthbetween that gentleman's office and Miss Maitland's house, carried aplain statement of facts to Madam Sturtevant, as well as a highlyfurbished one to every householder between the two mansions, and hadmanfully attended to Mr. Jones's noon "chores. " He had, indeed, alreadya wild ambition to be engaged in the hired man's place, since the doctorsaid that that sufferer would be laid up in bed for at least threemonths. 

"I'd r-r-rather do chores any day than go to s-s-school, " he announcedto his companion, swallowing a large bit of bread at the same time, andthereby causing that young person to tilt her nose upwards, disdainfully. 

"You ought to be as nice in your manners out here alone with me as youwould be in the real dining-room with Aunt Eunice and grown-up company, "she reproved, daintily balancing her own spoon with an ease which theother would scarcely admit to himself that he admired. 

"F-f-fudge. You ain't c-c-com--pany no more. You belong, don't you?"

"I--I guess so. I begin to hope so, for this is the most delightfullyhappening place I ever was in. Though I never was in, to stay, but oneother. First you fell over a precipice, and then I found a nest oflittle turkeys all dead, out in the black currant-bushes, Susanna saysthey are, that had stolen themselves--whatever that is. Then thatmystery of a brass bound box; and now Uncle Moses breaking his bones, and so much going on. But--Montgomery Sturtevant! That box! What didbecome of it? Would we dare, do you suppose we might go back to thewoods and find it? It was all your fault. If I hadn't let you carryit--All this about poor Uncle Moses has put it out of my mind, but nowit comes back and it's more important than he is. I'm sure of it. Wemust find it. Come, quick!"

Katharine pushed back from the table and; sprang to her feet, herweariness forgotten in this fresh anxiety. 

But Monty was neither anxious nor excited; at least, not about the box, though he held it scarcely less important than she did. He was busyover a "sum" in mental arithmetic, a branch of study he little favored, though it had now come to assume considerable importance to him. Yet theproblem was beyond his capacity, though this keen-witted girl mightsolve it. He'd try her. Therefore, still gurgling his milk, hespluttered:

"S-s-s-ay, Katy! if a man, if a m-m-man can earn a dollar a day doin'c-c-chores, all the c-c-chores, how much can a boy earn doin'h-h-ha-half of 'em?"

"Not a single cent, if I had to pay him, and he were such a boy as you. A boy so mean he'd take a brass bound box out of a girl's hands and loseit for her, and then wouldn't budge to go get it. You do try me so, Montgomery! And there's one thing I know. That is, that if I had themanagement of you I'd break you of that detestable habit of stuttering, or know the reason why. It's all nonsense. You can talk as well asanybody else, only you're too lazy. Now, will you come?"

To her surprise and to her shame, also, he neither resented her sharpspeech nor her reply to his money question. Leaning forward, his blueeyes took on an earnestness which effectually dispelled all notion ofvanity in their possessor, demanding:

"C-c-c-could you do it? C-c-can you? _W-w-w-wi-will you?_"

"Yes, I might, could, would, and should--if you'd go find my brass boundbox!"

"Cross your heart, honest Injun, h-h-hope to d-d-die?"

"No. Neither one. Just plain 'Yes. ' I know a way. I've read all about itin the Cyclopedia in the big bookcase. I hunted it up right away, thatfirst day after the first night when I--I mocked you. I made up my mindthen, and I never unmake minds, that if you'd be decent I'd cure you. It's nothing but a dreadful bad habit, anyway, and easy done. But notuntil you find my--the--Aunt Eunice's brass bound box. "

He was gone and back in a flash. 

Katharine, starting to follow, paused in the middle of the floor, arrested by the sight of him standing in one doorway with the glitteringcasket in his hands, and of Miss Maitland in another staring at thatwhich he held as if she saw a ghost. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

HAY-LOFT DREAMS

All the pretty pink color which had hitherto tinged the lady's cheek hadvanished, and she visibly trembled, so that Katharine darted forward toher support. But Aunt Eunice raised her hand protestingly, and totteredforward to the nearest chair. With dry, white lips, she asked in a voiceso low it could barely be heard:

"Montgomery Sturtevant, where--where did you find _that_?"

Her appearance alarmed both the children, who fancied she, also, wasabout to faint as Moses had done, yet she did not fall nor did her gazewaver; and impelled by its sternness to make reply, Monty finallystammered:

"H-h-h-hay-m-m-ow. "

"Hay-mow! Impossible!" returned Miss Maitland, becoming a bit morenatural in appearance, while Kate indignantly turned upon her playmate, demanding and denying:

"How dare you? He didn't. 'Twas I--under a tree in your own big forest. I dug it up and fetched it--he fetched--there wasn't a hay-mow anywherenear it. Oh, Aunt Eunice, it's the Magic Treasure. It holds the key toall the world--to all the good things in the world, anyway. And you'rethe wonderful Wise Woman will open it and let us use the gold anddiamonds and precious stones to make all the poor people rich and glad. 'Tis yours, I know, and quick, quick!"

With a bound she seized the box from Monty's hands and brought it to thedisturbed lady, who, when the girl would have placed it on her lap, recoiled as from some venomous thing. 

"No, no! Don't bring it to me. I wouldn't touch it. It has wrought evilalready, and so great--"

Then she abruptly paused and steadfastly regarded the quaint old casketwhich, as Katharine had discovered, seemed to have neither lock norfastening, and was in itself a marvellous piece of mechanism. As shegazed her thought was busy as painful, but out of the chaos one idea atlast grew clear: The Brass Bound Box must be safely hidden and none mustknow that it had ever been found. To hide it she would have to touch it, no matter how unwillingly. But the secret of its existence must be kept, although that secret was already in the possession of these two others. 

She called them to her and held out her hands now for the box. Theyapproached her with a sort of awe, for there was that still in her facewhich altered its ordinary kindliness. Not that it was unkind, for therewas even more than usual sweetness in the glance she gave Montgomery, yet he felt as if he had been guilty of some terrible sin without in theleast knowing what or why. 

"Children, you are young to be asked to promise so serious a thing as Inow ask you, but you must promise it, and you must keep your word. Willyou?"

"I never broke my word in my life, Aunt Eunice! I wouldn't begin nowafter I've grown to be such a big girl, " said Katharine, promptly. "Butit's honest to tell you I hate promises, and I never feel so tempted tolie as when I've made one. I'd rather not promise, if you please; and Iguess--I guess I'd rather not hear any secret. I'll go out and let youtell it to Monty alone. "

Montgomery shot out a restraining hand and clutched her vanishingskirts, while a faint smile stole to Miss Maitland's lips at thisevidence of moral cowardice. The boy felt, and with justice, that it was"Kitty Quixote" who had got him into this scrape, with her wild woodlandadventures and her fairy-tales, and that it was but fair she shouldshare in it. 

"Unfortunately, you already know it. What you must promise is--that youwill never, never speak of this box or its strange reappearance to anyperson, young or old. I shall put it out of sight where it will not beeasily found again, and then forget it. You must forget it, too. You areSturtevant and Maitland, descendants of honorable men and women, and forthe sake of your forebears you must hide this thing. "

It was all so solemn that Katharine shivered, yet could not helpwondering a little. "Forebears"--that meant dead people; and how couldit harm people already dead to have that box found, even supposing it tobe full of poisons or other dreadful stuff, as she now began to imagine?

Now, if Kate merely shivered and speculated, poor Montgomery was in anague. When he fixed his great eyes upon Aunt Eunice's face they were sofull of terror that she pitied him, and tried to comfort, saying:

"Don't look so frightened, dear. It's only to keep from speaking of whathas happened this morning. That's easy, isn't it? Besides, you are soyoung you will not remember long. Other things will drive it from yourminds. At least, I trust so. In any case, you are in honor bound. "

With that she rose as if to dismiss them, and went away toward theseldom used west wing of the great house, carrying the box with her. Herstep was no longer uncertain, but firm and decided. A terrible situationhad suddenly confronted her, and made, for a moment, even her clearjudgment dim; but she had swiftly weighed the consequences, pro andcon, and had settled the wisest course to follow. 

Left alone, these young "descendants of honorable men and women"regarded one another in dismay; and Montgomery was the first to speak, crying out with all the intensity words could express:

"Oh, ain't it a-a-aw-ful!"

"Huh! I don't see anything 'awful' about it, 'cept your hanging on to meand making me stay whether or no. That was a dirty mean trick--keepingme here when I might have got away without hearing. "

"Y-y-you knew it a'ready. An' it _was_ in the h-h-h-hay-mow. I'd hid itthere the min-ute I g-g-got to the barn, waitin' for y-y-you. But comeout there n-now. I've got s-s-s-somethin' to tell you, " said the unhappylad, far too disturbed to resent her sharpness. At which she becameinstantly regretful, and slipped her arm consolingly within his, as theywalked toward the great barn, which had from the first seemed to thecity girl the most delightful of structures. 

It was further proof of Monty's dejection that he did not jerk his armaway, nor would he have cared at all who saw him thus being petted by a"girl. " However, once arrived at the great sun-lighted doorway, andsecure even from Susanna's ears, the trouble came out. 

"Oh, w-w-what shall I do? I've told it all over t-t-town, a'ready, an'it's no s-s-se--cret at all!"

Katharine stuck her arms akimbo and stared mercilessly at the abjectcreature before her, who seemed to droop and wilt under her gaze as ifhe were sinking through the hay-strewn floor. 

"You told it?" she repeated, indignantly. 

Monty nodded mournful acquiescence. 

"Then you--you--you ought to be set washing dishes again, and kept at itfor the rest of your life. So there. "

One blue eye was raised a trifle in surprise. How in the world had sheknown that? He didn't remember mentioning the cause of his recentretirement from public life, indeed, he was positive that this had beena "secret" really worth keeping. However, it didn't matter now. Nothingmattered except that he, who came of such "honorable" people, hadbetrayed his friends. 

"W-w-what'll happen, s'pose?"

"I don't know, " answered Kate, slowly. "Something dreadful ought. Forbefore it was Aunt Eunice's secret the box was my secret, too. I was thefirst who should have told it, and only to her. You had no right tospeak of it till I gave you leave. "

"Un-un-uncle Mose broke his bones, and I h-h-had to go 'round, didn't I?An' when I told about him the o-o-other j-j-j-just slipped out itself. T-t-t-that's all. "

"Humph! 'All!' And more mischief done than you or I can guess, maybe. For though I can't imagine why Aunt Eunice should be so overcome andanxious at sight of just a box, there must be some good reason. She hasseen that box before and it doesn't suggest pleasant memories to her. That's plain. She would have been glad if it had never been found, andall my pretty romance about treasure and helping people turns out justhorrid. I wish I had never gone to that wood, then things wouldn't havehappened. The box would have stayed in its hole, I wouldn't have hurriedhome with it by the long wrong way and met you, and poor Uncle Moseswouldn't have followed nor fallen over that root. Aunt Eunice would havebeen like the saying, 'Where ignorance is bliss, ' and wouldn't have beenworried so, and we shouldn't have been forbidden to tell things that Iwouldn't have cared to tell, if I hadn't been forbidden. And, oh, dear!What a terrible hard world it is! and what a lovely old barn! Ithink--Do you suppose I could climb up that hay-mow? Susanna's surethere are hens' nests 'stolen' up there, and she needs the eggs. I wishwe could find them. I wish we could do something--anything that ispleasant and so helps us to 'forget, ' as Aunt Eunice wished us to do. But I guess I can't climb much. I never had a chance to try. "

"I'll s-s-show you!" cried the lad, eagerly, and delighted to thinkthere was something in which he could excel this clever city girl. Witha bound he had risen from the floor, where both had sat during the lastof their talk, had promptly spit upon his palms and rubbed themtogether, then leaped to catch an upright beam. "Shinnying" up to theslippery mow with real agility, he there paused and regarded Katharinewith an expression of great pride. But instead of admiration her mobilecountenance expressed only disgust, and to his question, "H-h-how'sthat?" she retorted: "Nasty, dirty thing! You go wash your hands beforeyou touch a single one of our eggs!"

"'O-o-our' eggs!" repeated Monty, scornfully, to hide his own chagrin. "H-h-how long since th-th-they were 'ours'?"

"Oh, dear! Do come down and wash, and let's quit quarrelling. Seems asif we never could agree about things, yet we must. We've got to befriends if we have to keep Aunt Eunice's secret, for even though you didtell it before it was hers you needn't make it worse and speak of itagain. If anybody asks you about it now, all you must do is to keepperfectly still. Not say a word. Let them think what they please, butdon't you talk. Now, isn't there any other way to go upon the hayexcept by that beam? The Widow Sprigg said she was going up thereherself soon as she got time, and I'm sure she doesn't do what you did. "

"C-c-couldn't do it with--out, " asserted the climber, referring to themoistening operation. 

"I mean she would never 'shinny' up a straight, slivery beam. "

"Huh! I s'pose there's a l-l-lad-der, do for g-g-girls, " assertedMontgomery, indifferently. 

"Then show it to me and I'll begin to teach you how not to stammer. "

He looked at her sharply, but there was such perfect sincerity in herface that he accepted her promise joyfully, and led her to the rear ofthe barn where a rude but strong ladder led from the "bay" at the bottomto the top of the hay, almost touching the roof. Jumping from the higherboard floor of the barn into this bay Montgomery ran nimbly up theperpendicular ladder, which was so straight it seemed fairly to tiltbackwards, like an overerect person, and Katharine followed as best shemight. She was afraid but determined, and, though the slippery blades ofthe dried grass fell over the rounds of the ladder, making footholddifficult, she managed to reach the level beneath the eaves and waspulled over into safety by the boy. 

"Isn't this delightful? I was never in such a lovely place before, sosmelly and sweet and warm. I don't wonder hens like it up here, thoughit's scarey coming up. Don't you think so?" she asked, looking aroundupon the lofty mow with curious gaze. 

"S-s-scarey? Pooh! That's 'cause you're a girl. G-g-g-irls wasn't madeto climb. B-boys were. I can climb first-rate. Yes, sir. I c-c-can climbanything. I can cl-cl-climb any tree in Aunt Eu-Eu-Eunice's woods. I canclimb any tree in Deacon Meakin's woods. I--I can climb all the trees inSq-Sq-Squ-Squire Petti--john's woods, top the mountain. I can climb anytree in the whole w-w-world! I c-c-co-could climb the church steeple!"

Katharine listened to this boastful statement with interest. She notonly believed it, but had observed that as Montgomery neared his climaxhis stammering became less pronounced. This coincided with theCyclopedia and suggested the first lesson she should give. But she hadherself "climbed" to this height for another matter besides instruction. To descend with a quantity of fresh eggs for Susanna's depleted larderwould be to bring one ray of sunshine into that darkened house. For asthe widow had pertinently inquired of the hired man, only the nightbefore, "How can a body cook good victuals without ingrejunce? An'what's the greatest ingrejunce in punkin pies if it ain't eggs? Or cake, uther?" to which Moses had jocularly replied: "It might be punkin orflour. " And again, Susanna: "My suz! But you air smart, ain't ye? Well, eggs I haven't, an' eggs I shall an' must. An' up that loft I go, tromple or no tromple the hay, an' before the sun sets another time onthis deceivin' world. "

Therefore, eggs Katharine would obtain and then instruct; and, announcing this decision, Montgomery did his best to aid her in thesearch. Nor was it unsuccessful. There were three nests, safely placedbeneath the eaves where their builders had supposed in their hen-mindsthat no human being would ever come, while another adventurous fowl hadlazily scooped a hole in the very centre of the mow and deposited hereggs. In any case, eggs there were in abundance, and, having filledMontgomery's pockets and Kate's hat with them, they took their ownwell-earned rest upon the fragrant hay beneath the slatted window. 

Sunshine and air came through it, and the song of birds in the trees;and beyond another distant wide-opened shutter they could see the roofsof village homes and the spire of the church which Monty felt he couldso easily climb. There, all anxiety forgotten, they dreamed dreams andsaw visions; and in each and all they were both to be good and great andworld beneficent. 

[Illustration: "THERE, ALL ANXIETY FORGOTTEN, THEY DREAMED DREAMS ANDSAW VISIONS"]

"I shall be a great artist some day. As great as my father, or maybe, ifone could be--even greater. Because, you see, poor papa had to work formoney, not for love of his art. I've heard him say so, time and timeagain. When he wanted to paint great pictures he had to paint meanlittle ones, such as common persons liked and would buy. 'Pot boilers'he called them, because they brought the cash, the 'fuel, ' to keep the'pot' a-boiling. Course, we had to have clothes and a house and thingsto eat, and nobody to buy them except papa darling. Maybe, up in heaven, he is painting his 'great picture' now. What do you suppose?" askedKatharine, gazing through the slats at the blue sky overhead. 

"I d-d-don't know much about heaven. I never had time to think. T-t-t-th-there's always so much doin', " answered Monty. Yet, followingKatharine's rapturous gaze skyward, his own blue eyes had filled withdreamy speculation, and he began to picture to himself the wonders ofthat world beyond Marsden village which he meant sometime to find. 

"B-b-but I'll tell you somethin', Katy Maitland. I'm not goin' to stayhere always. I'm goin' to be a big man and--and do things, " he observed, after a prolonged meditation. 

"How big? What things?"

"Oh! Big as they g-g-grow. Big as the postmaster. B-b-big asSq-Sq-Squ-Squire Petti--john. I'm goin' to be either a s-s-sailor, or--maybe P-P-Pr-President. "

"If you're President you'll be a--a, what is it they call them?Politicalers, I guess, " returned the girl. 

"P-p-p-pol-er-tic--ian, " corrected Montgomery, with stutteringeagerness. 

Katharine accepted the correction without comment, though her lipstwitched and her eyes twinkled; and after a pause she continued:"Politicians can do things. They can get folks elected. Anybody toanything. Plain storekeepers to be postmasters; postmasters to beSenators; Senators to be Presidents; and--and hired men to beconstables. Can't they?"

"Y-y-yes. Why?"

Katharine sat upright so suddenly that her hat rolled over and the eggsspilled from it. However, the hay was soft, and no harm was done, norwas her enthusiasm cooled by a trifle of that sort. Clasping her handsecstatically, she exclaimed:

"We must do it! You and I must get Uncle Moses Jones elected constable. Now, while he's sick, for a surprise. Won't that be grand?"

"Grand!" assented Montgomery, with such eagerness that he forgot to tripin his speech. Then doubt and stammering returned together. "W-w-wec-c-c-couldn't. "

"Yes, we could, if we had any s-s-sp-spunk!" retorted Katharine, heartlessly. "Folks have to be little politicians before they are bigones, I suppose, just like children before they are grown-ups. Well, you're a little politician now, a teeny tiny one, and it will be justsplendid practice for you to get a village constable elected. I believethat although Uncle Moses and even Aunt Eunice speak so proudly of thatoffice, that it isn't as great as some others. I don't know, and Iwouldn't care at all except for him. But we must do it. I've heard himtalking with Widow Sprigg how that now the 'law was changed, ' 'townmeeting' was no 'great shakes' any more, for the Presidents andconstables all got mixed in together till a 'body couldn't tell t'otherfrom which. ' For his part he'd 'ruther be 'lected in the spring whencrops was growin' an' tramps a-trampin', though if he was forced intoit, better one time than never, ' and a lot more funny grumble. She toldhim not to worry, that he'd never be 'forced, ' much as he'd like it. I've decided that he must be elected, and without any 'forcing, ' andI've the splendidest plan you ever heard. First, I'll give you a lesson. Then I'll tell you, else you'll believe I'm forgetting my promise. I'mnot. I'm only considering the best way to begin. Well, MontgomerySturtevant, that bad habit of yours comes from laziness and nervousness. Pure laziness, pure nervousness, " she added, with emphasis. 

"D-d-don't neither!" denied the stammerer, indignantly. "Ain't got nonerves. G-gr-gramma says so, and she knows. She's older 'n you, an'she's got 'em worst kind. Always gets 'em when I play the f-f-fiddle. "

"Maybe there are two kinds of nerves. She doesn't stammer. Besidesthe Cyclopedia said so, and it tells the truth. Here. Put thispebble in your mouth. It's a nice smooth round one. I picked itup in the garden and washed it clean. You put it in and then sayjust--as--slow--as--slow: 'Betsy Bobbins baked a batch of biscuit. 'After you learn to say it slow, without once stammering, then you beginto say it faster. Either that or any other jingle that's difficultwithout tripping. 'She sells sea-shells, ' or, 'Peter Piper. ' Why don'tyou put the pebble in?"

"I don't want t-to. You're mocking me!"

"There! I knew you needn't if you really wouldn't. When you are a littleangry or in real earnest you can talk well. Listen to me and think ifI'm not in earnest myself, since I took the trouble to copy all this foryou. "

Thereupon, from the little pocket of her blouse, which had held thepebble, the teacher took a folded paper, closely covered with herneatest script, and read therefrom paragraphs which alternately plungedher pupil into despair or exalted him to extravagant delight. And thefortunate result of this first lesson was that when it was endedMontgomery had repeated an entire sentence with reasonable smoothness. But he had accomplished this without the pebble and with almostinterminable pauses between words. 

"Yet you did it, you did it!" cried Katharine, exultantly; "and now fora reward you shall hear the most glorious plan I ever thought out. Listen to me, Mr. President-that-is-to-be!"

So Montgomery listened in astonishment, doubt, and delight, after hishabit of mind; yet also, because of her zeal in his cure, withunquestioning allegiance. In any case, it was a scheme that would haveappealed to him irresistibly and was one full worthy of the brain of"Kitty Quixote, " so that he was fast outstripping even her ingenuity inthe matter of detail, when the sudden call of Widow Sprigg fell like adash of cold water upon their glowing spirits:

"Montgomery Sturtevant! You come right down out that mow this minute!Here's Squire Pettijohn after you!"

CHAPTER IX. 

SQUIRE PETTIJOHN

Katharine should have grown familiar, by this time, with Monty'sspasmodic disappearances, but this last was the most amazing of all. Itseemed that at the sound of "Pettijohn" the hay had opened and swallowedhim. There had been no other summons and she had heard only a faintswish of something sliding, then found herself alone. 

"But he'll come back, of course, " she reflected, "after he's seen thatgentleman. Must have been somebody he liked or he wouldn't have hurriedso. Anyway, I don't mind being here a little while by myself to thinkthings out all clear, and a hay-mow is the loveliest place in the worldfor dreaming. "

It proved such in reality for Katharine, who, burrowing herself a fresh, chair-like "nest" in the sweet-scented hay, laid her head back and fixedher gaze upon the clouds floating above the slatted window. Soon herlids dropped and she fell fast asleep. 

When she awoke the loft was dusky in twilight and she was very cold. Thewind had risen, and little tufts of the hay about her blew here andthere, clinging to her clothing and lodging among her short curls. Montgomery had not returned, and after lying still a moment longer, tillshe was fully awake, she grew frightened, thinking:

"I never heard such a moaning and whistling as the wind does make uphere. I wonder if it is always so in a barn, and how I am to get down. It was hard enough coming up, but in the dark, like this, and I notremembering just where that ladder was; and if I don't find it--whatshall I do? Yet how silly to be afraid of things, a big girl like me;and how impolite of that boy to go away and forget me. No matter howmuch he likes Squire Pettijohn, he shouldn't forget his manners;especially since it is I, not that gentleman, who is going to cure himof stuttering. And what a stupid I am not to call him! If he's forgottenI must remind him. "

With that she crept as near the edge of the mow as she dared, andshouted: "Montgomery! Monty Sturtevant! Boy! Come back and help medown!"

While she listened for a reply she thought of the eggs she had collectedfor Susanna, and crawled back to find her hat and them. The hat sheslipped over her head, its elastic band clasping her throat, and theeggs she stored within her blouse. They were heavy and made it saginconveniently, but she could soon get rid of them if only that wretchedlittle Sturtevant boy would come back. She must try again!

"Mon-ty! _Mont--gom--ery!_"

Nothing save the wind soughing dismally among the rafters responded toher call, uttered with her loudest voice, and a fresh shiver of fearcrept over her. Then she rallied, growing angry, which, under thecircumstances, was the best thing that could have happened. Herindignation made her half-forget her terror so that she could plan herdescent with something like courage. 

"Let me think. I noticed that the top of that straight little laddercame high above the hay, almost to the roof in one place. I'd better geton my stomach and just crawl along, ever so slowly and carefully, till Ifind it. But--hark! Oh, joy!"

From somewhere in the darkness below a familiar yelp and whine soundedfaintly. The roaring of the wind almost drowned it, yet she recognizedthat Punch had traced and followed her. She had always loved him, butnever had he been so adorable as at that moment. His unseen presencecomforted her so that she called back to him quite cheerfully:

"Yes, you precious, beautiful dog! Mistress is up here. She's coming!Wait for her, darling, darling fellow!"

It is possible that the ugly-favored little animal appreciated thisflattery, or he may have had troubles of his own which neededcomforting. Since his arrival at Marsden, life had not been allchop-bones for him any more than it had been all catnip for Sir Philip, and the short, gay bark with which he now responded to his mistress' cryproved their mutual satisfaction. 

At last, Katharine's cautious passage came to a pause as her fingerstouched the ladder, but she realized that a misstep would send her overthat precipice of hay into the bay below, which now seemed a gulf ofunfathomable depth. Inch by inch, with greater prudence than she hadever exercised, she moved onward in the gloom, now become almostimpenetrable, till she got one foot upon a round of the ladder. 

"That's good. But I guess I'd see better if I closed my eyes, and I mustgo down it backwards. Now I've both feet on and--dear me! How far it isbetween steps. Why don't people put their rounds closer together, sothey wouldn't be so hard to climb? I was never on a ladder before excepta step one, and that not often, and--But I'll manage. "

Manage she did and very well, until she had nearly reached the bottom. Then, pushing her foot downward where one of the rounds had been brokenout, it found nothing to rest upon though she stretched it to herutmost, and all at once everything seemed to give way and she fellbackwards. Fortunately, the distance was so slight and the bay socarpeted with hay that no serious harm resulted; and when a cold wetnose was thrust into her face she sprang to her feet, catching Punch inher arms and in her great relief caressing him till he rebelled andwriggled himself free. 

The wind did not roar so loudly down there, and, presently, she couldhear things; the sound of somebody moving about on the barn floor, theopening and shutting of feed-boxes and stalls, the swish of fodderforked to the cows in the shed beyond, and could also see the gleam oflantern-light as it was carried to and fro. 

"Hello!" cried Katharine, hurrying to the square window through whichshe and Montgomery had leaped into the deep bay, but whose lower frameeven was so far above her head that she could only touch it bystretching her arms to their utmost. She had thought it a big jump thenand had not considered how she was to return, but now the fulldifficulty of the situation presented itself, and her heart sank. 

"Oh, Punchy, dearest! I guess this is a good deal like Susanna's saying, 'out of the frying-pan into the fire. ' Off the hay-mow into the bay. Idon't see why folks build barns such ways. Why don't they have justregular straight floors and things? Wait, pet. Don't rub against myankles so hard, you nearly knock me over. The man'll come back in aminute and help us up. I don't see how you ever got down here unless youfell down. Hello! Man! _Man!_ Hel--lo! HELP!"

The lantern glimmer appeared once more, but at the extreme end of thebuilding, and seemed rapidly receding. Then there came the sound of aheavy door slammed forcibly against the wind, the rasp of a bolt in itslock, and Katharine knew that she had not been heard, and that she hadbeen shut up alone in the great, desolate place. 

It was not liking for Squire Pettijohn which had caused Montgomery tovanish when called to meet him. Quite the reverse. The name of that manof mighty girth and stature struck terror into the soul of every youngMarsdenite. He was a person of fierce temper and a propensity formanaging his neighbors' affairs, especially the affairs of his youthfulneighbors. Report said that his wealth equalled his temper, and that thetwo together made most of the villagers stand in awe of him is certain. It was his boast that he represented the cause of law and order in hisnative town, and he often wondered how it had gotten along before he wasborn, or how it would manage when he was dead. 

That day he had come home from attending court and found the communityin a ferment. It would have been excited even by the news of Moses'accident and pluck, but the tidings of treasure-finding, scatteredbroadcast by Montgomery during the morning's errands, had stirred itsprofoundest depths. 

When the lawyer tied his horse at the post-office, he was greeted bystatements as various as many. "Miss Maitland has discovered a gold mineon her property;" "Monty Sturtevant has dug up buried treasure inEunice's woods;" "'Johnny' Maitland's girl has been sent home to fetchEunice a box of diamonds;" and "There's been gold found right here inMarsden township. "

These were but the beginnings of the garbled reports which agossip-loving lad had originated; yet all pointed to one and the samething, --Marsden would now become famous. So that more than ever SquirePettijohn felt it good to be a great man in the right place. In all thenewspaper notices which would follow, his name, also, would appear, andnotoriety was what he coveted. 

Having listened to one and all versions with fierce attention, herepaired to his dinner and consumed it in a silence which his observantwife knew betokened affairs of unusual weight. But it was not until hefinished his dessert and pushed back from table that he informed her:

"I am going to Eunice's. Vast wealth has been found upon her premises, and she needs me. Deny me to all smaller clients until further notice. "

Then, assuming his Sunday attire and stiffest stock, he set pompouslyforth down the tree-bordered street, caning a stray dog here, therereprimanding a boy who might be playing "hookey, "--though was not, --andshaking his fist at old Whitey, taking her accustomed stroll in and outof inviting dooryards. Yet when he came to the wider yard before thestone house something of his complaisance left him. "He and EuniceMaitland had never hitched. " She was always perfectly courteous, andnever failed to attend the sewing-meetings of the church when they wereheld at his house, and she had even been heard to say that she had "agreat respect for Mrs. Pettijohn. " She might have put a peculiaremphasis upon the "Mrs. , " but then, everybody has his or her tricks ofspeech which mean nothing. 

There was no door-bell at The Maples, but a polished brass knockerannounced the arrival of any visitor; and it seemed to the worried WidowSprigg as if that "plaguey knocker had done nothin' but whack the hullendurin' time sence Moses got hurt. I wonder who 'tis this time!"

Consequently, the door was opened with more impatience than courtesy asit now heralded the arrival of the Squire, who was for passing at onceinto the hall had not something in Susanna's manner caused him tohesitate. 

"Miss Maitland. Is she at home? Will you present my card to her and saythat I have called in person--in person--"

"Don't see how you could have called any other way, " answered thegreatly tried housekeeper, remembering him rather as "little JimmyPettijohn, " whom her own mother had used to feed and befriend, than asthe important personage he had since become. 

"Ah, Susanna, my good woman, you were always facetious! I would like tosee your mistress. Please announce me to her and conduct me to thedrawing-room. "

It was a mistaken tone and the widow hesitated at no rudeness whichwould protect the beloved "friend" with whom she dwelt, and whom it washer privilege to openly call by the familiar title of "Eunice, " whichthis "Jimmy" dared not do save behind the lady's back. 

"We hain't got no drawin'-room here, an' Eunice ain't seein' no morefolks to-day, not if I can help it. I'm sure she won't see no men folks, anyway. We've been overrun with them, a'ready, just 'cause Moses hasbroke his leg and a few his ribs. Accidents happen to anybody if they'rekeerless, an' he admits he was. But he's as comfortable as can beexpected, thank ye, and good day. "

"But, Susanna, not so fast. I came to offer my services in regard tothis--er--gold mine which the little Baltimore girl has discovered. "

"W-h-a-t?" gasped the widow in utter amazement. Had the man taken leaveof his senses?

"The gold mine, or--or hidden treasure--or casket of diamonds, --reportsvary; yet all agree in the fact that extraordinary wealth has beenunearthed in the old Maitland woods. Of course, Eunice being unused tothe management of large affairs and only a woman--a woman--she wouldappreciate the help of an experienced man. I trust my advice may proveof benefit to her. "

The Widow Sprigg listened with an attention that would have beenflattering had not her face evinced her incredulity. As it was, shestood for a brief time, staring over her spectacles at the big man, asif gazing at some curiosity, then she laughed, scornfully:

"Why, Squire, upon my word I'm sorry for ye! Though I don't know who'twas 'at made a fool of ye, but fool you have been made, and nomistake. Such a balderdash as that! Why, man alive, don't you s'pose ifanything worth findin' had been found on Eunice's property she'd ha'told me the first one? An' me an' her livin' like sisters, so to speak, even sence I growed up, savin' the spell whilst Mr. Sprigg, he wasalive. Two years I spent in my own house 't Mr. Sprigg he built, on hisown piece of woodland 'j'inin' hers, and she buyin' it off me soon's hedeparted. The prettiest little house in the hull township, 'tis, too, an' where I 'xpect to end my days if I outlive her, which I hope Iwon't. An' her needin' business 'advice, ' indeed! When there ain't a manin Marsden, let alone all the women, can hold a candle to her forgumption an' clear-headedness. An' her sayin' to me then, 'Susanna, itwill do you more good to sell to me an' put your money out to int'rest'an to have a lot of wuthless land on your hands, an' you shall keep thelittle cottage for your own as long as you live. ' So we done it, an' shepaid me more'n the market price; an' has left me the house alluntouched, with my own furniture in it, an' me goin' out there twicet ayear for spring an' fall cleanin, ' an' even leavin' the kitchen-bedroombed made up, case I get the hypo an' feel like bein' by myself a spell. "

"I know, I know, Susanna. I've heard of Eunice's generosity to you, andof your whimsical retention of an empty house. You ought to let it tosome decent tenant and get some benefit of it. Upon second thoughts, Iwould advise you to sell it. Now that this treasure has been found youmight realize well on it. I--Why, I don't know but I might be induced totake it off your hands myself, just to do a friendly deed to an oldschoolmate. "

Squire Pettijohn had managed to stem the tide of her garrulity longenough to interpose this speech of his own, and to act upon an ideawhich had just occurred to him. The value of the old Maitland forestwould leap to fabulous height if the rumor that gold had been discoveredthere proved true. But he did not intend to offer much for the "desertedcabin, " convenient though it might be to the possible mine, upon thestrength of a mere rumor, and even though the chance existed of the samevein of wealth extending even so far. He would first get confirmation ofthe story from Miss Maitland's own lips and would then act with his eyesopen. 

He was not succeeding very well in his errand of "neighborly kindness, "for Susanna still held the door so nearly closed that he could not forcean entrance, even though he kept his foot firmly in the aperture. Thewoman still regarded him with a pitying amusement; yet graduallycuriosity got the better of her common sense, which told her that he wasthe victim of some hoax, and she inquired:

"Who told you such a yarn, Squire?"

"Please admit me. I am not accustomed to being kept on people'sthresholds when I take time out of my busy life to call upon them; andno one person in especial told me. The talk is in everybody's mouth, andthe whole village has gone wild over the matter. "

"But it must have had some sort o' beginnin'. Wild goose gabble likethat don't spring full-fledged out the ground, I know. Who--started theridic'lous business?" persisted the housekeeper, almost unconsciouslyopening the door somewhat wider. 

Squire Pettijohn improved this opportunity and made his way into thehall before she remembered that she had not intended to admit him. Inany case, she instantly reflected he shouldn't see her mistress, whom hehad had the impertinence to speak of as "Eunice. "

But her reflection came too late. Miss Maitland was already descendingthe wide stairs, and had paused at the half-way landing, to observe whowas this latest visitor of the many who had called to ask for Moses. Called, also, it may be, to learn something further concerning theinteresting "treasure. "

But none save this gentleman had ventured to speak to her of what was, in reality, her own affair, and she had not encouraged inquirers toremain. Privacy had never seemed so desirable to her as on that fatefulmorning nor so difficult to maintain; and though there was no rudeness, her neighbors went away with the feeling that:

"Eunice Maitland's just as proud and reserved as ever. Moses' troubleand her own great fortune don't make a bit of difference, and she makesyou feel, without saying a word, that your room is better than yourcompany; and that she'll keep her own counsel in this matter as she hasalways done in smaller ones. "

"Good afternoon, Miss Eunice! Accept my hearty congratulations!" criedSquire Pettijohn, pushing eagerly forward to the foot of the stairs, andbowing to her descending. 

"Good afternoon, Squire Pettijohn. You are very kind to come and inquirefor my poor friend, Mr. Jones. I am glad to tell you that the doctorsays he will do very well, but sorry to add that he will be a prisonerindoors for a long time. Is Mrs. Pettijohn quite well?"

So speaking, and with the manner of one who has expected but one kind ofinterest in affairs at The Maples, yet knowing perfectly well that theSquire would never have troubled himself about a "hired man's"misfortunes, Aunt Eunice walked with her visitor toward the door. Shewas puzzled by his presence, but did not enjoy it, and was herself goingjust then to read the _Weekly Journal_ to her injured helper. She didnot take the hint given by the Squire's pause beside the sitting-roomdoor, and moved gently forward to the outer entrance, as if to terminatethe interview. 

"Make my regards to your good wife, Squire, and thank her for sending toinquire. Moses is much touched and gratified by the good-will of hisneighbors, and has had many calls already. But doctor says he shouldsee nobody except ourselves for the present. Good afternoon. "

They had now reached the doorway and Susanna stood at one side, keenlyobservant of the other two, and suddenly breaking into their talk withthe exclamation:

"Well, Eunice! What do you think's sent Jimmy Pettijohn a-visitin' _us_?Not none of Moses' troubles, but to hear about the 'gold mine' was foundin the big woods this mornin'! Did you ever hear the beat?"

"A gold mine? Surely, he knows how absurd such an idea would be, "answered Aunt Eunice, quietly bowing and turning away. 

As she disappeared in the hall beyond the stair-way the Squire coughedand started to follow, then apparently thought better of it, for hemerely reproved Susanna with his most judicial sternness, saying:

"If you women would be careful to repeat things as you hear them youwould save much confusion. It is true I did mention 'gold mine, ' but Ialso mentioned a hidden box of treasure. The majority of the villagersclaimed the latter was what was really found, and--"

"Who started such a cock-an'-bull story? Must have had a beginnin' insomebody's mouth. "

Susanna had now become not only indignant but profoundly curious. Shewould find out who was responsible for this strange rumor, then shewould promptly interview that person and cross-examine him as only awoman could. But the reply which she received astonished her more thanthe story had done. 

"It was that stammering little grandson of the Madam's. He and thelittle girl who's staying here were the discoverers. So I was told, "answered the Squire, making ready to depart. 

"Well, I declare! If 'twas ary one o' them we can soon settle theirhash. Come with me, Squire, I saw the pair goin' into the barn a littlespell ago, an' I hain't seen 'em come out. Katy, she don't know you--an'so ain't afraid of ye. She ain't afraid of anything I've seen yet; butMonty--Hm-m. I can leave Monty to you to deal with. My suz! If thisain't been the greatest day that ever I saw!"

With which remark she led the way to the foot of the hay-mow and sent upthe summons which had caused Montgomery's sudden disappearance. 

CHAPTER X. 

ALFARETTA'S PERPLEXITY

"Alfy! A-A-Alfy!"

Her name hissed into her ear partially roused the bound-out girl from anap she had been taking with the towel in one hand, an unwiped dish inthe other. She had the faculty of going to sleep anywhere and any timeopportunity offered. She now leaned comfortably against the wall besidethe sink, her eyes closed and her mind oblivious to her surroundings, and dimly hearing through her dreams that sibilant call:

"A-A-A-Alfy!"

Then her ear was pinched and she brought back to reality. 

"What you doin' to me, Montgomery Sturtevant? I'll tell your grandma!"

"Ain't meanin' to hurt you, A-A-Alfy. I--Don't you d-do that. I--Say, I'm goin' to h-h-hide in the s-s-secret chamb--er. Don't you t-t-tellanybody. You fetch my s-s-s-supper up after dark. An' some w-w-water. Fetch enough to l-l-last--forever! I don't know as I s-s-shallever--ever--dare to c-c-come down. "

The Mansion where the Sturtevants had lived during many generations wasa house even older than The Maples. It was far more quaintly ancient instyle, and had been one of the many "Headquarters" of our Revolutionarygenerals. The earliest built house in the county, the part first erectedstill stood strong and intact, though little used now. On this portionof the Mansion the roof ended sharp at the eaves on one side, and but afew feet above the ground; the opposite side being two full stories andattic in height. Within this "old part" were many curious rooms, onehaving the peculiarity of seven doors and but one window; a monsterfireplace, wherein one could stand and look straight up to the skythrough the great stone chimney, and where still hung a rusty giganticcrane, once used for the roasting of meats and boiling of pots; but, most curious of all, a perpendicular shaft leading to a "secret chamber"beneath the sloping roof. To ascend this shaft one climbed upon smalltriangular steps fitted alternately in the rear corners of it; and itwas entered through a sliding, spring-secured panel of the"keeping-room. " No stranger would have discovered that the panel was adoorway, and even to Alfaretta it suggested deeds of darkness andtreachery. The utmost Montgomery had yet been able to persuade her todo was to peep fearfully up that uncanny stair-way, from the dimnessbelow to the utter gloom at top. To ascend it, as he did, nimbly handover hand--the mere thought of it set her shuddering. 

Now he was gone, and--there! She knew it. She heard him softly crossingthe bare floor of the "old part" in his stockinged feet, heard the rustysqueak of the ancient spring-fastening, fancied that she heard--thoughshe could not--his swift ascent of the ladder stairs, and--heard nomore. 

But she was now far wider awake than the pinch on her ear had made her, and she was terribly disturbed. In that house everybody, meaning Madamand herself, did what its young "master" desired. Of course on thelady's part there were some exceptions to this rule, but none whateveron Alfaretta's. The lad was at once her delight and her torment; in hiswilder moods teasing her relentlessly, but in his more thoughtful onespitying her for her hard lot in life. Yet, in fact, since the girl hadbeen taken from the "county farm" to serve Madam Sturtevant until sheshould be eighteen, she was scarcely poorer than the mistress whoemployed her, and who scrupulously shared her own comforts with hercharge. 

Big as the house was, there was very little money in it. None whateverwould have been there save for the generosity of distant relatives whoregularly sent a small cheque to the Madam, as well as a box of clothingfor the grandson; nor did they even dream that upon that cheque and theneighborly kindness of Eunice Maitland the household at the mansionexisted. 

Fortunately, for the present, Alfaretta demanded nothing in the matterof wages. When she should be eighteen the, to her, almost fabulous sumof one hundred dollars would be her due as well as a decent "fittingout" of wearing apparel. Then she would be free to go or stay, work for"real wages" for this mistress, or engage herself to another. Buteighteen was a long way off as yet, and though sometimes a wonder as towhere she should get the pledged one hundred dollars did cross MadamSturtevant's mind, she put the thought aside as soon as possible. Sufficient unto that day would be its own evil, and there had been daysin the past far more evil than Alfy's coming of age could ever be. 

Had relic-hunters known it the Mansion was a storehouse of genuine"antiques" which would have been eagerly purchased at fancy prices; butMarsden was far out of the line of such persons, and, save in extremenecessity, the old gentlewoman would have refused to part with herbelongings. 

Eunice, who was better informed on such matters because of her widerreading, had once delicately suggested to her friend that such or suchan old "claw-foot" was worth a deal of money, and that it wasn't reallynecessary to have four tall clocks, each more than a century old, ticking the hours away in that empty house. 

But her suggestion was wholly misunderstood. Madam had rather crisplyreplied that she was perfectly capable of winding the clocks on the oneday in eight when they required it, and hoped to continue so till herlife's end. Indeed, it had used to be a rather formal little householdceremony--that winding of the clocks on every Sunday morning. A ceremonythat had always been performed by the two reigning heads of the "family"in each succeeding generation. It had been Madam's place to walk withher husband from room to room and stand beside him while with the queerold keys he wound the weights up from the bottom of the upright cases tothe top, whence they would again begin their slow descent to the bottom, reaching it as another Lord's Day came around. 

Nowadays, Montgomery, as the last of his race, had been promoted toaccompany his grandmother on this clock-winding tour, and had onceinnocently asked:

"Did my father use to go with y-you, as I-I-I do?"

Strangely enough, he had never before inquired much about his parents, but had somehow imbibed the knowledge that both were dead. His fatherhad once "gone away" and never returned; but his mother had come home, bringing him an infant, had placed him in the Madam's arms, had taken toher bed, and had left it only to be carried to the burying-ground on thehill. Of her the old lady often talked, and once when they had carriedroses to the unmarked grave he had heard her softly quote: "A sweeterwoman ne'er drew breath, than my son's wife, Elizabeth. "

But of that son, her own only child, she said nothing till he asked thatunfortunate question. Then she had turned upon him with a face so unlikeher own that he was frightened and needed no command to make him avoidthat subject forever after. 

"Your father is--gone; has died to us. Speak of him no more. "

The tragedy of her expression haunted him for a time, and he wonderedwhy she was so much more distressed by mention of her son than of herhusband, since both were dead. However, he soon forgot the matter saveto obey her wish, though afterward this clock-winding, which he hadthought a "bother an' n-n-nuisance, " seemed fully as sacred an act asthe church-going which followed it. 

This, then, was Montgomery's home and life, and why he who was so pettedand indulged should put himself in hiding, and, of all places, in thatdreadful "secret chamber, " puzzled Alfaretta. 

"He told me not to tell Madam, an' he told me to bring his supper. Howcan I? How dast I? I--I'd be more afraid to go up that stair 'an to walkthrough the graveyard alone at midnight. I would so, Ma'am Puss, an' youkeep your nose out that suppawn, I tell you!"

The perturbed little maid felt that it was good to have even a cat totalk to, and vented some of her vexation by kicking the unlucky animalaside from the pot, whose hot contents she was merely sniffing. Suppawnand milk was the customary supper at the Mansion, and as its mistressliked to have the pudding cooked for a long time and also continuallystirred during that operation, Alfaretta had become expert in the matterof managing. The pot was duly put on at the hour appointed, and theIndian meal carefully sifted into the salt, boiling water. When themixture appeared fairly smooth and Alfy's arm was tired the pot was setupon the hearth and the young cook went to sleep. When the sleep was ofsufficient length to cool the porridge Ma'am Puss extracted her ownsupper in advance of the family's, and nobody was the wiser. But to-day, Alfaretta had forgotten to remove the pot from the stove while she didher "noon dishes" and taken her intermediate nap, with the result thatthe suppawn was burned and even the cat wouldn't touch it. And althoughshe had whisked it off the fire as soon as Monty had disappeared, hertrained nose told her that this was a supper spoiled for everybody. Shewas very sorry for Madam, who would try to eat it, and always bore morepatiently with her young handmaid than that person wholly deserved, butthere was a silver lining to that cloud! Montgomery would never touchsuppawn if it were scorched: therefore, she need carry him none of it. 

[Illustration: "MA'AM PUSS EXTRACTED HER OWN SUPPER IN ADVANCE OF THEFAMILY'S"]

"Couldn't have got any milk up there, anyway, without spillin' it, Ma'amPuss, an' you know it. Goody! Course he'll come down. He'll have to ifhe gets starvin' hungry. No harm done--much. I wonder what he's been upto now! Well, I can't help it. I didn't get him into no scrapes. An'I'll work real hard the rest the afternoon, hemmin' that petticoatMadam's give me to make over for myself. It'll be a real good petticoatif I ever get it done, though it's about forty rods around the bottom, Ibelieve. "

Full of good intentions, Alfaretta carefully set the burned pudding backon the stove, wherein the wood fire had nearly gone out, and sat down toher task of needlework. In reality, she was a very tired little girl. Madam was daintily neat and vigorous for a woman of her years. Neververy robust, she still exercised what strength she had in a ceaselessround of sweeping and dusting. All the empty old rooms were as orderlyas when there had been many servants to attend them, but this wasaccomplished at a cost of incessant labor and watchfulness, which themistress really enjoyed since it filled her days with "things to do, "but which was not so well liked by her bond-maid. 

Ma'am Puss curled herself at Alfy's feet and purred herself to sleep sosoundly that a tame mouse, the girl's own especial pet, came out fromhiding and scampered merrily about the kitchen floor. The chorus ofclock-ticks sounded drowsily through the silent house, Madam was takingher daily rest on her lounge in the sitting-room, and after a time theseamstress's good intentions passed into a maze of dreams. In them sheseemed to be eternally climbing steep stairs into a chamber of horrorstenanted by one starving boy; or she was watching Madam choke to deathover a lump of hot scorched porridge; or she was being tossed on thehorns of Squire Pettijohn's black bull, --the terror of all young, andsome old, Marsdenites, --and from this last dream she awoke to find thekitchen quite dark, and Whitey mooing outside the window. 

It was Montgomery's place to "tend cow, " the lonely remnant of a oncelarge herd, but it was Alfaretta's duty to milk it. 

"Yes, Whitey! It's all right, an' for once you've come home by yourself. A good job, too. Let me see. How fur have I sewed? To there--to there!"sleepily murmured the maid, and realizing that she had on that afternoonof best intentions accomplished the magnificent distance of two inches!"Two inches, if it's a stitch. Two inches a day for--How many days willit take to hem--to hem--Huh! I can't bother! But if I'm to go to schoolnext quarter as Madam says I may, I'll have to do faster 'n that. Mightget it ready for my outfit, like Monty says, " remarked the sewer toherself, laughing carelessly. 

Folding the garment neatly, she put it back in the work-basket hermistress had given her, and taking her pail, went out to milk oldWhitey. But first she attended to what was properly Montgomery's part ofthe evening's chores, stalling the cow and throwing into her manger thescanty supply of night fodder that could be afforded. Then she sat downto milk, and accomplished that operation so slowly that Whitey turnedher head as far as the stanchions would permit to see what this slownessmeant. 

With the coming of the dusk Alfaretta's perplexities had returned andbrought others with them. It was not only a question of the boy's goingsupperless--nor her courage, nor of burned porridge and Madam's liftedeyebrows when it was tasted, which to the bond-girl was "Worse 'an alickin';" it was that further one of the grandmother's inquiries. Howshould she answer them?

She loitered as long as she could, but the evil hour could not beindefinitely postponed. Madam's habits were as exact as those of herancient clocks, and precisely as the four of them were striking six thelittle silver bell tinkled in the dining-room. 

With an air of every-day indifference, Alfaretta dished the burnedporridge upon a delicate china platter and filled a cut-glass pitcherwith milk. These she placed upon a silver tray and carried to theshining mahogany table where the mistress was already seated. Then shetook her own place behind the lady's chair, as she had been trained, ready to serve the simple meal; yet hardly had she stationed herselfthere than the dreaded question came:

"Where is Montgomery, Alfaretta?"

"Oh, dear! How not to tell the truth an' how not to lie!" reflected theperplexed girl, but not till the question was repeated did she reply: "Is'pose he's--he's somewheres. "

Madam's eyebrows were lifted then. "Why, Alfaretta!"

"Yes, Madam. I'm sorry the suppawn scorched. I--I was terr'ble sleepyan' I stopped stirrin' a little minute an' first I knew--"

"I asked for Montgomery. Did you tell him that supper was served?"

"No, Madam. "

"Please do so. "

Glad of any reprieve from giving the answer she hated to make, the girlleft the room in haste, as if intent upon summoning the lad. But shewas gone longer than seemed necessary, nor did the waiting grandmotherhear the boyish voice she loved, despite its stammering; and she washerself just rising to look for the lad herself when the maid reëntered, pale and breathless, and evidently frightened in extreme. 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE FACE IN THE DARKNESS

Miss Maitland had promptly engaged Deacon Meakin to take Moses' placeduring the latter's enforced idleness, and the arrangement promised tobe satisfactory to all concerned. 

Susanna had observed:

"You couldn't do better, Eunice. The deacon's forehanded himself, but helikes money--all them Meakins do--an' he's been as oneasy as a fish outo' water sence he sold his farm an' moved into the village. A man 'at'sbeen used to workin' seventeen hours a day, ever sence he was born tillhe's turned sixty, ain't goin' to be content to lie abed till six seveno'clock in the mornin' an' spend the rest the day splittin'kindlin'-wood to keep a parlor stove a-goin'. He'll be glad o' the job, an' he'll be glad o' the wages, an' he'll break his neck tryin' to domore an' better'n Moses ever did. You couldn't do better. It's a illwind that blows nobody good, an' Moseses misfortune is the deacon'sblessin'. "

There was something else which made the good deacon accept MissMaitland's offer with so much alacrity. According to his own wife:

"The deacon he feels terr'ble sot-up bein' selected to become one thefamily, so to speak, right now on the top of that treasure findin'. Iain't seen him walk so straight or step 'round so lively, not sence wemoved in. An' whatever the truth is in this queer business, he'll fathomit, trust him! or bust. "

This, to a next-door neighbor, as the gentleman in question set off downthe street to enter upon his new duties. 

So it was the deacon whom Katharine had heard busy about the barn andthe glimmer of whose lantern had disappeared in the distance. With aprecaution his predecessor in office had never practised, he had securedevery shutter and window and locked every door before he crossed thedriveway between barn and house and entered the kitchen, where Susannawas toasting bread for supper. As he blew out the candle in the lanternand deposited that ancient luminary on the lean-to shelf, he rubbed hishands complacently, and observed:

"Well, Widow Sprigg, I cal'late I've done things up brown. Winds mayblow an' waves may roar, as the poet says, but nobody nor nothing can'tbreak into Eunice's buildin's whilst I have the care on 'em. How's hedoin'?"

As Moses was the only "he" on the premises the question naturallyreferred to him. 

"Oh, he's all right enough. I mean, right as he can be, stove to pieceslike he is. One good sign about him--He's crosser'n fury. All said an'done that me or Eunice could to please him, and he won't be pleased. Wants them childern, an' the mis'able things have skedaddled somewheresan' can't be found. "

The deacon recognized an opportunity. He drew his chair up to thefireplace, where, above a bed of glowing coals, Susanna was making hertoast, and said:

"There, neighbor, you look clear tuckered out, an' no wonder with whatall you've gone through to-day. Hand me the fork. I'll help you. Ihain't been ma's husband forty year without learnin' how to toast aslice of bread. An', my sake! Ain't it all just wonderful! An' what inpower do you s'pose she'll do with it all?"

Susanna rather reluctantly yielded the toaster, looking speculativelyover her spectacles at her would-be helper. Here was another man gonedaft, or apparently so. Then she remarked, testily:

"I don't see what's happened all you men to talk so odd. Here's JimPettijohn been here a-offerin' his services to help Eunice look after agold mow, or somethin'. An' me that surprised you could knock me downwith a feather, just to see him walkin' up our front path. We ain'tnever had no 'casion for visits from the Squire--not sence he got to beone. Before then, years ago, when he was a humbly little barefoot shaverrunnin' 'round loose, 'cause his ma was too poor to feed him, why theMaitlands used to half keep him. We none of us Maitlands has ever likedhim, though. And now you--It ain't for the love of toastin' bread thatyou've set yourself down 'longside this fireplace, Deacon Meakin, and Ido wish you'd put me out my misery an' tell plump and straight what'spossessin' this village of Marsden this day!"

"You pretend you don't know, widow?"

"No, I don't pretend. I never 'pretended' a thing in my life. I sayplain an' square what I mean an' no hints nor inyendys about it. Now, Iask you as man to man, or widow to deacon, what's all this fuss beyondjust Moses gettin' his bones broke? There's something, and it seems tobelong to our folks, yet me nor Eunice don't know a touch about it, nuther one. Now, tell. "

The slice of bread fell from the two-pronged fork into the fire, butneither of this worthy pair observed the fact. For at once the deaconplunged into his story, relating the varied rumors which were at thatmoment being excitedly discussed by every other fireside in Marsden, asby this; and the grain of truth extracted from the mass wasthat--something out of the common had happened, yet nobody knew justwhat; that Katharine and Montgomery were the chief actors in the drama, with Moses a possible accessory. Also, that to Miss Maitland the wholeaffair was known "root and branch, " and that she had been true to hercharacter and refused to share her affairs with even the friendliest ofneighbors. 

"And now, Susanna Sprigg, what do you say to that?" demanded the deacon, exultantly, when he had finished his garbled narrative. 

"I say--_bosh_! And you've burned the toast. But I've got enough done, anyway. We always 'feed' at five o'clock in the mornin' an' milk rightafter. And you needn't bother to lock the buildin's another night. Course, we do have keys an' keep 'em hung in their places, but as forusin' 'em--Why, who in Marsden would steal a cent's worth?"

The deacon felt he had been bidden to take himself away, yet withnothing learned; and as he slowly adjusted his plush cap and pulled itsear-tabs down, he fixed a facetious glance upon the housekeeper, makingone more effort toward enlightenment, saying:

"I admit Marsden an honest village, less I never'd a-sold the farm an'moved in. But what's been in the past ain't no pattern for the futur'. Course, you hain't had no occasion for bars an' bolts, heretofore, buthereafter--hereafter--with that bag or box or trunk of diamonds--a goldbox it is, too, they say--or them big lumps of gold out themine--prudence is advisable. Good night. "

He went out, rather noisily closing the door behind him; and, fairlysnatching up the plate of toast, Susanna repaired to the room where, inan unlighted gloom, Eunice awaited her supper. 

"My suz! Eunice, why didn't you light up 'fore this? I meant to do itmyself, but what with runnin' up-stairs to tend to Moses an' showin'that blunderheaded deacon the ways of doin' our chores, I let it go. "

Eunice rose to do as suggested. Indeed, she had been sitting so absorbedin her own thoughts that she had not observed the coming of nightfall;but Susanna interposed:

"You set still, Eunice Maitland, till I get all the lamps lit there is. I've got to have a chance to see whether I'm awake or dreamin'. I wantto see square into your own face, an' learn if you're bein' deceived orare deceivin' me. Here's that little mis'able Jimmy Pettijohn--"

"Little, Susanna?"

"Yes, little. Always was an' always will be. His outside has growed bigenough in all conscience, but his inside has stayed the size of apin-point, same as it was born. And Deacon Meakin, that's always had thereputation of common sense, a-insistin' that a gold mow has been foundin our woods; or if not that, then a box--a shiny box of--My suz!Eunice--Eunice--what is the matter?"

Miss Maitland had risen and stood staring incredulously at thehousekeeper. She was trembling violently and her face had turned palerthan the other had ever seen it. She opened her lips to speak, but wordsseemed slow in coming, and after a moment she sank back in her chair, murmuring only:

"Oh, Susanna! How dreadful!"

"Eunice, be you sick?"

"No. Oh, no, no. "

"Then there's somethin' in this, after all. An'--an'--you never toldme!" cried the widow, for the first time in her life feeling reallyangry with this good friend. 

"I couldn't tell you, dear Susanna. I could tell nobody. It does notconcern--any one now living. "

Her hesitation was not lost upon the eager woman opposite, whosecuriosity was greater even than her anger; making her demand, promptly:

"Which was it? Box or mow?"

"I cannot tell you. I shall not say another word upon the subject. Whereare the children?" But though the tone was decisive, it was also verygentle; and now smiling across to her irate housemate, she added: "Befaithful to me in this matter, dear friend, as you have always been inothers. The secret is not mine to impart. You will help me to silenceall these dreadful rumors by simply ignoring them. Nothing has happened, save Moses' trouble, to affect our life in any way. I am astonished thatpeople should make so much of so little, and I am both surprised anddisappointed that any rumors have been set afloat. It seems impossibleto trust anybody, nowadays, even a child! But where are the two whobelong to us? Where is Katharine? Where is Montgomery? He should begoing home, or his grandmother will worry. But be sure to put him up abasket of food. There's that half of a boiled ham, and yesterday's breadwas extra fine. A loaf of that and a square of gingerbread shouldsatisfy him for the bread-and-milk dinner he was forced to put up with. He was very helpful in running errands, I must not forget that. "

Miss Eunice continued talking as if she wished to recall to herself allthe good qualities of one who had bitterly disappointed her. How could aSturtevant be so dishonorable? Or was it a Maitland? Which of the twoyoung things who had found the box and had given her their promise, hadso soon broken their word? For, of course, only by and through themcould these wild rumors have been set astir. 

Susanna had listened in silence, which was not her habit. She was stilldisappointed and hurt, and was trying in her own mind to put severalthings together. But she rallied as Eunice paused, and said:

"I don't know where they are, ary one. The Squire he was after Monty, hot foot. 'Twas him, he said, 'at had set the yarn a-goin'. After all, it might be one his own wild goose make-believes, if--if _you_ hadn'towned it was true. Of course, I'll do what you want. I always have, ortried to; but I will say this much, Eunice Maitland, 'at I don't feelyou've the confidence in me you ought to have. That's all. I'll say nomore. And as for where them two oneasy young ones are, I can't guess. Iheard 'em talkin' or I heard Monty, up in the hay-mow, just after theSquire wanted him. I heard him as I was crossing the gravel road to thebarn, yet when we got there an' called to him--he simply wasn't. Heknowed he'd been doin' wrong, most like, else he'd have come down. "

"Did you tell him that it was Squire Pettijohn who wished to see him?"

"Yes. Course. I thought that would scare him into comin' right away. "

Miss Maitland laughed, and answered: "My dear, misguided woman! Youmight have known Monty well enough to understand how fast he woulddisappear in some other direction. He has probably gone home andKatharine with him. I hate to put any further task upon you, but I--I'mrather upset by to-day's events and shall have to ask you to go forKate. I must tell her to remember hours and always be on hand atmeal-time. She is a winning child in many ways, but--I fear I'm too oldto get used again to any child. "

Susanna went out without a further word. In her heart she was glad ofthe rather long walk to Madam Sturtevant's, since during it she wouldhave opportunity to stop at some neighbors' doors, hear what they had tosay, and promptly disabuse their minds of whatever wild notions they hadthat day acquired. For despite her personal vexation with Eunice she wasloyal to her, and felt that she had but to say "Bosh!" in her mostemphatic way to any rumor repeated in order to dispose of it. Mistakenwoman! As well try to stem the ocean's flood as to silence a secret oncebetrayed!

These several calls, brief though they were, brought her somewhat lateto Madam Sturtevant's, and at that very moment when Alfaretta rushedinto the dining-room, frightened and breathless. Now the Widow Sprigg sorarely paid a visit to the Mansion that she meant to make this one asformal as possible; so, instead of tapping at the side door, she steppedto the front one and gave a resounding whack upon the big brass knocker. 

"Ouch!" screamed Alfaretta. 

"Why--what's that!" exclaimed the Madam. After-dark callers were anunknown thing at that house, and instant premonition of evil chilledits mistress's heart. 

"D-don't be s-s-scared!" said the little maid, hurrying to the lady'sside and clinging to her skirt, stammering as readily as Montgomerywould have done and ostensibly to reassure her mistress, but, inreality, for her own protection. Madam could be so stately and grandthat she must awe any intruder who looked upon her, and behind her blackskirt the girl felt safer. 

"Scared, Alfaretta? How absurd! But coming so suddenly upon our quietudethe summons surprised me. Take the candle from the side table and openthe door. "

The Mansion was still lighted by candles which its mistress herselfprepared, molding them in tin molds exactly as had been done by thefirst lady who had ever ruled there, but for economy's sake as few wereburned as possible. One now glimmered upon the supper-table and another, unlighted, waited elsewhere for just such an emergency--but an emergencyso long delayed that Alfy had never expected it to arrive. 

She had learned to polish the antique stick to a dazzling brilliancy, its snuffers and extinguisher as well, "in case we should have anevening call, " being the weekly remark that accompanied the polishing. But till now the wick of the candle thus prepared had remained white aswhen removed from the mold, and Alfaretta's hand trembled as she nowleft her ambush of black serge and tried to obey. 

"Take care, child! You're lighting the candle--not the wick! Takeanother lighter and try again. "

Even matches were a luxury to be reckoned with in that impoverishedhome; and besides, all the family had always used paper "lighters"daintily twisted, and crimped at top, nor was Elinor Sturtevant one togo behind her own traditions. But, at that moment, Alfaretta had alreadywasted three lighters without igniting the new wick when again that loudknocking was repeated. 

Madam's patience fled. 

"You clumsy child! Don't delay any longer. Whoever it is will think usmost inhospitable. Take this one already burning and go to the door atonce. "

"I--I dassent!" quavered Alfaretta, retreating toward the kitchen. 

"You--dare--not? How ridiculous. Then I will go myself! though when onehas a maid one expects her to attend the door. That's a point upon whichI am very particular. Remember that, in future. "

"Yes'm, " murmured the girl, absently. There were so many "points" uponwhich the old gentlewoman insisted that some of them fell on unheedingears. At present, she was conscious only of two things: she must eitherremain alone behind in a dark room or she must go with her mistress andface whatever lay beyond that great front door. Deciding the lattercourse to be preferable, she timidly followed the vanishing candle downthe long hall to where a barricade of bars and chains and bolts madeadmission from without a matter of some moments. 

"Hold the candle, Alfaretta, while I unfasten the door, " commanded theMadam, and the girl had to obey. But her hand shook so that shescattered "droppings, " which even at that moment did not escape themistress's critical eye and which would have to be cleaned up as soon asmorning came. 

At last the door was opened, and to Madam Sturtevant nobody was visiblesave Susanna Sprigg, wearing her Sunday bonnet and her most politemanner, while her spectacles gleamed like balls of fire as thecandle-light fell upon them. But what Alfaretta saw was another face, sowild and fierce and terrible to look upon that her heart almost ceasedbeating. A white and haggard face, that seemed imprinted upon thedarkness as if it belonged to no body nor substance but was a ghostlyapparition of the night. All the eerie stories the poor child had heardduring her life at the "County Farm, " from the lips of the garrulouspensioners who had nothing better to do than invent them, came back toher now; and as the face appeared to be coming nearer, growing more andmore distinct, she uttered a piercing shriek and slammed the door withsuch violence that the candle went out and the darkness she dreadedenveloped them all. 

CHAPTER XII. 

A STURTEVANT--PERFORCE

"Alfaretta!" cried Madam Sturtevant, "what does this mean?" Something ofthe girl's panic had seized her, also, though she tried to hide her ownagitation by sternness. 

"My suz, Alfy Brown! What ails ye? You nigh knocked me down, slammin'the door right in my face, that way!" exclaimed Susanna, who had, fortunately, stepped within before this strange thing had happened. Shewas herself in an excited mood, having passed through what she hadduring the past day, and having had her mind further disturbed by thetales she had gathered during her progress. Now here at the Mansion, where was always dignified composure and serene hospitality, to findsuch tardy admission and such hysterical welcome--it was too much! Herreflections were swift and angry, and while all still stood in the dark, as yet too surprised to move, she demanded, crisply: "I wantKatharine. "

"Come this way, Mrs. Sprigg. Let me take your hand and lead you. I'llsoon get a light, and please excuse Alfaretta. I don't understand whathas happened to her. Don't cling to me like that, child. You hinder me. "

"Oh, didn't you see--It?" whispered the unhappy little maid, paying noheed to her mistress's words, but clinging all the closer to her in afresh access of terror as she heard, or fancied that she did, footstepson the piazza without. 

Susanna's anger cooled in a new curiosity, and she said:

"You needn't bother to lead me, Madam Sturtevant, I know the ins an'outs of this old house pretty well, even if I don't come to it often. You go right on ahead an' strike a match; an' Alfy Brown, let go herskirt. Your manners this night ain't none your mistress's teachin', Iknow that. They must be some left over from the 'Farm. '"

Now Susanna must have been sorely tried to have reminded the girl of herunfortunate start in life, and Madam hastened to cover the remark bysaying: "There, that's better!" and rising from the open fireplace whereshe had relighted the candle from the carefully covered embers. It hadbeen so mild until now that only a fragment of fire had been kept uponthe hearth, where, however, it was never permitted to wholly die "fromequinox to equinox. " Fortunately for the comfort of the household, therewas woodland sufficient still belonging to the estate to supply allnecessary fuel, and in cold weather this impoverished gentlewomanenjoyed her blazing wood fires--a luxury which even wealthy peoplecannot always command. Miss Maitland made it Moses' business to see thatthe Mansion wood-piles were high and broad, long before the autumn came, and the hardship of splitting smaller sticks for kitchen and kindlingfell upon the reluctant Montgomery. 

Susanna watched the candle-lighting with real admiration. Neat as shewas herself, she had never yet attained to that exquisite daintinesswith which Madam Sturtevant did all things; and she now exclaimed, withkeen appreciation:

"My suz! You do beat all! Why, most anybody tryin' to light a tallercandle by wood coals would ha' melted the candle--but you hain't drippeda drip. Where's the children? I've come for Katy. She's a terr'ble handfor runnin' away, or, ruther, for not bein' where she should be whenwanted. The wind has riz awful. It don't rain none yet, but's goin' toright off. I didn't think to fetch an umberell an' couldn't have used itif I had. Not again' this blow. Alfy, you call Katharine, and we'llstart back prompt. No, thank ye, Madam, I won't stop to set down, notthis time. Eunice, she's alone with Moses so helpless, an' I don'tbelieve half the shutters is tight nor nothin'. Seems if a body hadmore on their hands than they could 'tend to times like these. Whydon't you move, Alfy? An' not stand stock starin' still, like an idjut?If the wind sounds that way indoors, what you s'pose it is outside? An'that child hain't got a thing on but that white ducky dress and maybe ahat. She wasn't fixed proper for livin' in the country, though she doesbecome her clothes real likely. She's clear Maitland, Katy is, an' aslike Johnny was as two peas in a pod. I can't help lovin' her, try as Iwill, " concluded the widow, so exhausted by her own volubility that sheunconsciously sat down to rest herself, even though she had earlierdeclined her hostess's offer of the spring-rocker by the sewing-table. "A chair 'at looks comf'table enough to take a nap in its own self, " asshe had once observed concerning it. 

Thus enabled to edge in a remark of her own, Madam replied, with someanxiety in her tones:

"The little Katharine has not been here. Not that I know. Has she, Alfaretta?"

"I--I hain't seen her, " faltered the maid, shivering as a fresh gust ofwind rattled the casement and a flash of lightning made everythingvisible without. But she had closed her eyes against whatever might berevealed and still delayed her mistress's direction:

"Go and look for Montgomery and see if he knows anything aboutKatharine;" then, turning to Susanna, she added: "I am so glad thatthey are going to be such friends. It's a good thing for a growing boyto be associated with a young lady of his own--his own position inlife. "

Susanna sniffed. She was democratic by profession and did not feelcalled upon to explain that as a matter of fact there was nobody livingso appreciative as herself of "good family"--as represented in Marsdenby the Sturtevants and Maitlands. She merely ignored the remark, starting from her seat as a terrible blast set the old Mansion tremblingon its stout beams and an east side shutter blew from its hinges. 

"My suz! We've never had such a storm sence I can remember, an' Katy innothin' but ducks! Eunice has wrote right away, soon's she made up hermind to keep her, to that stepmother o' hers to take an' buy the childsome good strong shoes an' dark warm dresses, fit for a girl to wear ina country village. She's goin' to begin school, soon's town meetin'sover an' Moses'll have time to drive her there. Oh, I forget he's broke. Well, she'll go sometime, if the proper clothes come an' things turn outaccordin'. But come she must now, an' to oncet, if she's anywhere'shereabout, 'cause I dassent stay a minute more. I shall be blowed off myfeet, I 'low, an' I wish, I do wish, I hadn't wore my best bunnit. "

"Take it off and leave it here, Susanna. I will lend you a scarf to tieover your hair, and Montgomery shall carry it home to you in themorning. I will go myself and see if the children are on the place. Though I doubt it, if Alfaretta hasn't seen them, or if they haven'tcome in here to be with us during the storm. Maybe it will soon pass. Wouldn't you better wait and see?"

"Not a minute longer 'an to look, " answered the widow, really morealarmed for the comfort of her home folks than for herself. Laying herbonnet carefully upon the side table, she followed Madam into thekitchen, yet would not permit that lady to explore the barn as she setout to do. 

"Come along with me, Alfy, but get a lantern. I hear the barn doorswingin' an' old Whitey mooin' as if even she was scared. You or Montymust ha' been careless about shuttin' up to-night, which uther one ofyou done it, or didn't do it. "

A lantern was procured and lighted, but there Alfaretta's assistanceended. Nothing would have induced her to visit that barn again thatnight, no matter how well protected by such a valiant woman as the WidowSprigg. As the latter disappeared toward the outbuildings, carefullyshielding the lantern with her shawl, Alfaretta's conscience drove herto say:

"It ain't no use. She won't find him. He--he ain't there. "

"Isn't there? Then why, child, did you do such a rude thing as to lether go on a useless errand? I really don't understand what has comeover you to-night. You are trying my patience severely. "

"Yes'm, " admitted the bond-maid, meekly. 

Madam laid her hand upon the girl's shoulder and turned her face towardthe light of the candle which she was herself holding behind theuncurtained kitchen window, the better to guide Susanna on her way. 

"Tell me, child, what has frightened you so? Do you know where my deargrandson is? It terrifies me to think he may be somewhere out-of-doors, unprotected in this tempest. Did he go fishing? Nutting? To play ball?Do you know where he is?"

"Yes'm, " again answered the little maid, but to which of these severalinquiries was not disclosed. At that moment a blinding flash oflightning illumined the whole space between house and barn, showingSusanna wildly flinging her arms aloft, her lantern flying in onedirection, herself in another, while distinctly silhouetted against theglare was another figure, so strange and uncouth that even Madamretreated a pace in sudden alarm. 

They could hear Susanna still screaming as she fled, but a second flashshowed the man who had alarmed her standing motionless on the spot wherethey had discovered him. 

Whoever or whatever he might be, it wasn't a pleasant situation forthese two, so isolated from their neighbors, and without evenMontgomery's presence. Mere lad as he was, he was still somethingmasculine, and at least his grandmother believed him to be a very herofor courage. But he was not there to "protect" them from the possibleannoyance of this unknown creature, and now, gently leading thefrightened maid, Madam went back to her untasted supper and sat down inher place. She also motioned the girl to take a chair close beside herown, and when she had done this, again asked:

"What frightened you so, just as Widow Sprigg arrived? Did you see thisman--outside--then?"

"I--I didn't see a man. I saw a face! I'd finished milkin' Whitey anda'ready 'twas gettin' dark awful fast an' early. I felt the wind blowin'and I knew the back shutters was loose. So I scuttled 'crost to pull 'emto, lest they got blowed clean away, an' there--there--right in thesquare of window by the old box-stalls was--was--the face! I got onelook, 'cause first off I couldn't somehow move hand or foot, an' I sawhow white it was, how its eyes blazed, how wild and stand-uppish itshair was, an' it smiled--Oh, what a dreadful smile! An' then I knew'twas a ghost! It's just the night for 'em, such as I used to hear theold folks talk about out to the 'Farm, ' An' which of us do you suppose, oh, which has got to die? 'Cause it's a 'call, ' a 'warnin', ' tosomebody. "

The little maid's terror was so real and her mental suffering so intensethat the Madam pitied her profoundly, though she smiled as she answered:

"I wish it may prove nothing more troublesome than a 'ghost, ' a creatureof one's imagination. Ah, my child! When you reach my age you will knowthat the only 'ghosts' who can really trouble us are our unhappymemories. I suspect that it is one of those 'tramps, ' for which Susannais always looking, but who have thus far avoided peaceful Marsden. Unlucky woman! whose first meeting with her expected 'tramp' should beon such a night and alone. Wind or no wind, she'll make a short journeyof the long road home. "

Already, safe once more in the sheltered dining-room which was on theside of the house least exposed to the storm and that did not face theoutbuildings, the housemistress's confidence returned. If onlyMontgomery were with her, so, that she knew him also safe, she wouldhave been content. As it was, even, she began to think kindly andpityingly of whatever poor wretch had sought shelter at her door. If hedidn't smoke, and so endanger the buildings, she wished he would seekcover with old Whitey till the storm was past. 

Meanwhile, one crouching in the hay-strewn bay, hugging a squirming dogfor company, and one lying upon a narrow stretcher beneath theeaves, --the missing Katharine and Montgomery listened to the roar of thetempest and believed that the very day of doom had arrived. Neither hadever heard anything like that wind. Indeed, none in Marsden ever had, and the morning was to reveal many ruined buildings and uprooted trees. But thus far the darkness hid all this, and Widow Sprigg raced homewardunharmed save by the rain, which now began to fall in torrents. 

Miss Maitland was watching her arrival in great anxiety. She had earlysecured every door and shutter, save at this one window which commandedthe path from the gate. Here she had placed a brightly burning lamp toact as beacon to the wanderers, and she had also set the fire to blazingbrightly. Before the fire hung warm clothing for the pair, and, havingdone all that she could think of for their comfort, she had passed toand fro between the sitting-room and Moses' chamber. He was almost asuneasy as the storm itself; alternately berating himself for a "fool, "and speculating upon the deacon's management of affairs at the barn. 

"I'll bet--I'll bet a continental he never cut the fodder for the cattlebut just give it to 'em hull! He was no 'count of a farmer, the deaconwasn't. Good man, yes. I ain't sayin' he ain't that; but did it everstrike you, Eunice, that most good folks is pesky stupid? Or 'clever'ones, uther? I call it plumb equal to tellin' you you're a reg'lartomnoddy to say a fellar's uther 'clever' or 'good. ' I 'low littlestutterin' Monty Sturtevant could ha' done the chores well enough till Iget 'round again, an' I could ha' bossed _him_. " Then, after a moment:"But I can't boss the deacon. "

"No, you poor old grumbler! I reckon he isn't that kind. And yourjudgment of your neighbors is a bit extreme. Never mind. It's such agood sign to hear you scold that I'm encouraged to think you'll soon bewell again. Now I'll go down and be ready to open the door for Susannaand Katharine. It's terrible to have them exposed to this storm. "

But there was nobody visible, and at length Miss Eunice felt assuredthat she should not see them till the tempest lulled. So she returnedonce more to the kitchen-chamber, to comfort its occupant and herself aswell. She had just remarked, for the third time:

"No! I'm sure Elinor would never let them set out in such weather asthis. She has kept them to supper, and I do hope Susanna will haveforethought enough to decline the ham and bread she carried for Monty, and confine herself to whatever the family was to have had by itself. Susanna is very hearty, I'm glad to say--"

"Eats so much it makes her thin to carry it around!" growled Moses, interrupting. "As for Montgomery, that little shaver's never had--"

What he would have added is not known. 

Out upon the kitchen stairs sounded the rush of sodden feet, whichseemed to stumble from sheer weariness even in their maddened haste; andthe next instant there burst into the room what looked like a wretchedcaricature of poor Susanna. Bonnetless and spectacle-less, her gray hairstreaming in snake-like strands, her garments dripping pools, her fineblack Sunday shawl trailing behind her like a splash of flowing ink, shedropped upon the floor gasping and sobbing, and, apparently, at herwits' end. 

A second's hesitation at touching so draggled and dripping a creatureheld Eunice aloof; and then she was down beside her friend, wiping therain-wet face and begging to be told what had befallen. 

"Surely, something worse than a storm has brought you to this pass, mypoor dear. You look frightened--you tremble--You--Oh, Susanna! Where isKatharine? Has harm happened her?"

"Her? 'Tain't her! It's me. It's come at last, an' I always--knew--itwould. Oh, say! Am I alive or--or--dead?"

Then as the absurdity of her own question flashed upon her, she began tolaugh hysterically, and soon to sob with equal fervor. She was whollyoverdone and unnerved, and, realizing that nothing could be learned tillshe was calmer, her mistress put no further inquiries, but led her awaydown the stairs, still dripping moisture, --a fact that no stress ofemotion could hide from the critical sight of two such housekeepers. 

"Them stairs! An' I washin' 'em all up clean just afore sundown! Lucky Ihadn't put down the carpet yet, though I'd laid out--Oh, my suz!"

This was the first coherent sentence, if such it can be called, whichescaped the terrified woman, while she was being undressed and freshlyclothed in the warm things Eunice had provided. 

"Yes, dear heart. But never mind the stairs. Did you find Katharine?"

"Nuther hide nor hair of her. Likely she's gone visitin' some thevillage little girls. She's that friendly she's been into most everyhouse a'ready. She's safe enough. She won't never come to harm, Katywon't. But, Eunice, he's come! I've seen him!"

"Who's come? What 'him, ' dear?" asked the other, gently, and thinkingthat exposure and fright had made this usually clear-headed Susanna alittle flighty. "Here, take a cup of tea. I made it fresh but a fewminutes ago. It will refresh you and quiet you wonderfully. "

Now, as a rule, the Widow Sprigg needed no urging to drink her favoritebeverage, which, like many another countrywoman, --more's the pity!--shekept steeping on the stove all day long. But now, for an instant, shelooked doubtfully upon the cup; then, as a sudden whim seized her, caught it up eagerly and again ascended the stairs to Moses' bedroom. Helay motionless, his leg kept taut by a ball and chain and his poor bodyencased in plaster, but he could use his arms and eyes, the one thrownrestlessly here and there and the other glittering with impatientcuriosity. 

"Well, there, Moses Jones! How many times have you jeered an' gibed atme for believin' in 'tramps'? Wasn't 'none, ' was there? Well, there_is_. I've seen him. _He--he chased me!_ All the way from the Mansiontill I got clean to the post-office--an' then--then--he--he cut for thewoods! Oh, my suz! Be I dreamin' or awake?"

The recalling of her frightful experience again so unnerved her that shesat down trembling on the edge of Moses' cot, and would have spilled hertea had not Eunice caught the cup in time to prevent. 

"You're crazy!" retorted Mr. Jones, unconvinced. "And there ain't nocall, as I can see, for you to set down on my broke leg. That awful ballthe doctor tied to it'll keep it straight enough, I 'low. "

Susanna sprang up as if she had been tossed to her feet, her facequickly becoming normal and compassionate again. 

"Oh, I didn't mean to do that! I hope I hain't hurt it none, " sheapologized, frankly distressed. 

"Well, seein' 'at you didn't touch it, I 'low there ain't no great harmdone. I was only providin' against futur' trouble. Now go on with your'trampy' talk. "

By this time Susanna was able to give an account of the man she had seenon Madam Sturtevant's premises, and who, when she ran, had soon followedin pursuit. According to her highly embellished version, his attire hadbeen collected from somebody's rag-bag, his hair and beard had neverknown shears or razor, his eyes were as big as saucers and gleamed withan unholy light, and his color was like chalk. But fierce! There was noword could describe the ferocity of the terrible creature's pallidcountenance! and, as for speed--Well, Susanna herself had made therecord of her life, yet he, with several minutes' disadvantage, hadactually overtaken her and grabbed at her shawl. Witness! said shawldragging behind her when she entered. 

"Hm-m! What puzzles me is that any tramp--any tramp in hissenses--should take after an old woman like you, Susanna. An' how inreason did you get a chance to investigate the cut of his features an'the state of his wardrobe in the dark, as it is?" inquired Moses, humorously. 

But there was no humor in Susanna's grim countenance, as shecontemptuously replied:

"How but by the lightnin'? Playin' all around everything every minute, makin' more'n daylight to see by. An', though I was scared nigh todeath, for the soul of me, I couldn't help lookin' 'round every now an'again to see what he was like. I'd never had a chance to see a trampafore, an' I never expect to again, so I had to improve my opportunity, hadn't I? Scared or no scared. "

This view of the situation made both her hearers laugh; but in Moses'mind was slowly growing a desperate regret, which finally expresseditself in the exclamation:

"An' to think I hadn't even been elected constable, an' hadn't no chanceto arrest the first tramp an' vagrant ever set foot in this village ofMarsden!"

Back at the Mansion there was no further disturbance. Madam Sturtevantcomforted herself with the supposition that her grandson was at the homeof some boyish chum or other; and she even ate a considerable portion ofthe now cold porridge, steadfastly refusing Alfy's entreaty to take someof the good things which Susanna had brought for him. 

"You may eat your supper in here to-night, Alfaretta, at the littletable; but that basket was for Montgomery, and we will leave it to himto open. We shall get our share of its contents, never fear. "

With more faith in the lad's generosity, where appetite was concerned, than Alfaretta had, the grandmother set the basket aside in the closet, and took up her knitting of stockings for her boy's winter wear. 

And then, as if he had felt himself under discussion, or more likely--asAlfy surmised--had smelled the odor of good things even through manypartitions, the door softly opened, and there appeared a tumbled head, afrightened face, and a pair of beseeching eyes. Whatever reproof was instore for him, he meant those eyes should do their part toward modifyingit. 

And for a time all went well. Madam was so full of the incident of thetramp and the horror of the storm that she forgot to ask him where hehad so long delayed, and how it chanced that he was so perfectly dry. However, this all came out of itself. While she was describing the gustwhich had blown the shutter free, he burst forth:

"I-I-I heard that! Yes, siree! An' I thought the whole r-r-r-roof wasgoin'. An' then I w-w-went to sleep a s-s-s-sp-ell. When I woke up, 'twas so p-p-pit-chy dark I dassent stay no l-l-longer. "

With which he coolly sliced himself a portion of the ham which hisgrandmother had promptly produced. She watched him in silence for amoment, then, as a sudden thought occurred to her, demanded:

"Montgomery, have you been in the secret chamber again? Was Katharinewith you?"

With his mouth full, he stammered: "Y-y-yes, I've been. You never saidnot. But K-K-Katharine she w-w-wasn't with me. "

"Montgomery, where is she? It was for her Susanna came. Eunice does notknow, nobody has seen her, can you tell where she is? You were at TheMaples all day--you played with her--_where is she_?"

Even in her sternest moods, "Gram'ma" had never been like this. And allat once a horrible chill ran down poor Monty's back. Memory returned;all his treachery; his unchivalrous desertion of a helpless girl in adangerous place; and, to his honor be it said, did for a moment turn himdeadly sick. But his natural temperament soon rallied. Of course shewould have found a way to get down and out. Yet, --and again he feltfaint, --what if she had not? What if she had had to pass the hours ofthis dreadful storm on the top of a hay-mow under a barn roof, where, even on mild days, a strong breeze blew through. 

Madam leaned forward, austere, intent. "My son, tell me everything. "

Under the spell of those piercing eyes, he did tell. Indeed, he was gladto tell. He felt she would find a word of comfort for his remorsefulconscience. Alas! the word she did find was simply this:

"Montgomery, put on your jacket and go to Aunt Eunice's at once. "

"_Gr-gr-gram'ma!_ In this awful s-s-storm? An' that t-t-tramp?"

There was no relenting. The gentlewoman's glance was now not only sternbut scornful, as she returned:

"Are you a Sturtevant, and ask me for delay?"

CHAPTER XIII. 

BUT--STURTEVANT TO THE RESCUE

All the conflicting emotions which whirled through Montgomery's mindpictured themselves in his face as he confronted the stern oldgentlewoman opposite. The silence in the room was unbroken save by theroar of the tempest, and it seemed an age before she asked, coldly:

"Are you afraid?"

But there was no hesitation as he hastily stammered:

"Y-y-yes, gr-gram'ma, I am afraid. So 'fraid I--I--can't hardly thinknor feel nothin'. B-b-but--_I'm--going_!"

His ruddy cheeks were now colorless save where the freckles spottedthem, and his great eyes seemed to have grown in size; but though therewas piteous terror in their blue depths there was no flinching from theduty. It took him a long time to button his jacket and adjust his cap. He even inspected his shoe-laces with a hitherto unknown care, andthoughtfully placed a stick of wood upon the dying embers. Hewished--oh, how devoutly he wished--that he had been born just a commonboy, like Bob Turner, or any other village lad, and not a Sturtevant!These hateful traditions about family and gentlemen--Cracky! How thatwind did blow! That tramp--Well, he dared not think about the tramp, andthere was nothing more he could find to delay the awful moment ofdeparture. With a last imploring glance toward Madam, to see if therewas no relenting, or if she would not suggest some easier way, "'causeshe knows all 'b-bout honor an' such p-pl-plag--uey things, "--yetfinding none, he dragged himself to the side door, fumbled a moment withthe latch, and went out. 

Had he known it, Madam Sturtevant was suffering more than he. She wouldfar rather have faced the elements and the darkness on that mile-longwalk, unused to exposure though she was, than have sent this lastdarling of her heart out alone and unprotected. Indeed, she sat sostill, and looked so anxious for a time after he had gone, thatAlfaretta ventured to touch her hand, and to comfort, saying:

"Don't you worry, dear Madam. Nothin' 'll happen to Monty. Mr. Jones, he's well acquainted with him, an' he says 'at Monty's got as many livesas a cat. He's fell down-stairs, an' out of a cherry-tree, an' choked onfish-bones, an' had green-apple colic, an' been kicked by SquirePettijohn's bull, an' tumbled into Foxes' Gully, --and that ain't but sixthings that might ha' killed him an' didn't. Besides, Monty's a goodrunner. Why, Madam, he's the fastest runner goes to school! True. He'smore'n likely half-way there whilst we're just a-talkin'. Shall I fetchyour specs an' the _Chronicle_ newspaper? Readin' might pass the timetill he gets back, an' I guess--I guess I won't be too scared to washthe dishes in the kitchen, if--if you'll let me leave the door openbetween. "

Alfaretta had enumerated the various disasters which had befallenMontgomery upon finger after finger, and with such perfect gravity thatthe anxious grandmother was amused, in spite of her fear, and feltherself greatly cheered. With a kindly smile, she answered:

"Yes, Alfy, please do bring it; and, of course, you need not close thedoor. We are sadly late with the work to-night, but you may sit up tillmy son comes back. You are a dear, good child, Alfaretta, doing yourduty faithfully in that state of life to which you were born, and youare a comfort to me. "

The happy girl fairly flew to bring the "specs" and the last number ofthe religious weekly which Eunice regularly sent to her old friend. Conscience was rather doubtful about that ever faithful performance ofduty; but why worry? Praise was sweet, doubly sweet from one so fine apattern of all the virtues as her mistress, and Alfaretta had foundcomfort for her own self in comforting another. Besides, now she waseither getting used to it, or the storm was lulling, for the blinds didnot rattle as they had, and that mournful soughing of the wind in thetall chimneys had nearly ceased. 

The bond-maid had rarely "done" her dishes so swiftly or so well, and, having set them in their places, she put out the kitchen candle, fetchedher knitting, and sat down on her own stool beside the fireplace. For awonder she was not sleepy. Too much had occurred that day to fill herimagination, and now that the "face" which had terrified her was safelyout of sight, she began to recall it with a sort of fascination. If itwere a ghost, it must have been that of somebody she had once known, forit was oddly familiar. The heavy features had a ghastly resemblanceto--Who could it be? Uncle Moses? Mr. Turner? The stage-driver? No, noneof these; nor of any old pensioner at the "Farm. " Then, suddenly, shethought of Squire Pettijohn, terrible man, who had used to visit that"Farm, " inspect its workings, suggest further extreme economies, where, it seemed to the beneficiaries, that economy had already reached itslimit, ask personal questions, such as even a pauper may resent, andmake himself generally obnoxious. Alfaretta had frankly hated him, andhad never been more thankful than when she was assigned to MadamSturtevant rather than to Mrs. Pettijohn--both ladies having enteredapplication for a "bound-out" servant at the very same time. Alreadyashamed of misfortunes which were not at all her own fault, she hadresented his pinching of her ears, his facetious references to herworthless parents, his chuckings under the chin, and the other personalfamiliarities by which some elderly people fancy they are pleasingyounger ones. 

"Madam! May I speak?"

"Certainly, Alfaretta. I haven't been able to keep my thoughts on mypaper. I shall be glad to hear anything you have to say. "

"Well, then! I'd hate to think it of any--any _good_ ghost, but therewas somethin' 'bout that _face_ 'at made me remember somebody I'd seen, an' the somebody was--Squire Pettijohn!"

"Child, how absurd!"

"Yes'm, I s'pose it is. But there was them same big eyebrows standin'out fur from this white _face_ as his'n does from his red one. There wasthe same sort of bitter look in the eyes, only these ones was afire. Ain't that queer?"

"Exceedingly queer. So queer that you must banish the notion at oncefrom your mind. I am convinced that it was some poor, homeless wandererestrayed into this quiet, and, I fear, inhospitable village, wherethere is no provision for such as he. I'm sure I wish he were safelyhoused in one of our own outbuildings rather than roaming the fields onsuch a night. Even an old blanket thrown into one of the box-stallswould have been comparative comfort. "

"Y--es'm, " assented Alfaretta, with small enthusiasm. But what she didlike to hear was Madam's talk of the old times when the now empty stablewas full of spirited horses, when guests filled the silent rooms, whenservants were many and the larder abundant, and life and laughter ruledwhere now were only memories. It always sounded like make-believe; and, humble poor-house child though she was, Alfy delighted in make-believe. 

A hint was commonly sufficient to set the house-mistress reminiscent, and once started upon such retrospections she was as contented tocontinue as her little maid to listen; and now there followed for thepair an hour of real enjoyment. 

Once really past the threshold Montgomery's reluctance vanished. If hehad anything disagreeable to do he liked to get it over with at once. The walk to The Maples in that storm was certainly disagreeable, aswould, doubtless, be his reception there. He wouldn't think about thatpart of the affair till it faced him, and he wouldn't let any grass growunder his feet for loitering upon his road. Then a thought ofKatharine, alone and in terror, roused all his real manliness, so thathe cared no further for anything save to set her free. He would nowpromptly have knocked any other boy down for calling him the hard nameshe called himself all the way from the Mansion to Aunt Eunice's, and hedisdained to think of tramps, thunder-claps, or broken tree-limbs, eventhough he stumbled over some of these along the path. Despite theobstructing wind, he had never run so swiftly, and the resounding whackhe gave the Maitland knocker startled all within the house. 

Poor Aunt Eunice required but little now to set her nerves a-quiver, andwas anxiously pacing the sitting-room floor, wondering how and where tobegin that search for little Katharine, which must be deferred nolonger. But after the first shock of the summons she ran to answer it, feeling sure that here was news at last; and there almost fell into thehall a drenched, breathless lad, who could only stammer, feebly:

"H-h-hay--mow!"

Then he dropped upon the floor to catch his breath. 

Miss Maitland stared at him, wondering if here was another storm-crazedvictim. Then she remembered that "H-h-h-hay--mow!" was the one and onlyword the boy had uttered during that scene of the brass bound box. Nowagain just "H-h-hay-mow!" She passed her hand wearily across her eyestrying to understand. 

Then said the last of the Sturtevants, recovering, and stammering butslightly in his earnestness:

"F-fetch a lantern, quick! We went up h-h-hay-mow huntin' eggs--an' mineare in the s-s-s-secret ch-amber--an' Squire c-come, an' I skippedan'--forgot!"

The boy was himself so familiar with the premises that he knew exactlywhere to find the lantern, and, having confessed his fault, he ran tolight it. He was also first at the barn, though Miss Maitland andSusanna both followed promptly and unmindful of the rain. 

But alas for Deacon Meakin's overcare! He had not only locked the doors, but he had hidden the keys. 

Susanna sped back to the house, seeking on the shelf where he had placedthe lantern for them, but failing to find them, while at Eunice'sdirection Montgomery felt everywhere under the flat stone which servedas door-step to the main entrance. In the crannies of window casings, atthe tops and bottoms of all the doors, in the cattle-shed andpoultry-house, in any sort of place where a Marsdenite would naturallydeposit keys, they searched without avail. 

Then Miss Maitland bethought herself that if Katharine were still withinthe barn and heard all this attempt at forcing an entrance she would befurther frightened, and said:

"We must break the glass in that window behind the stalls, and you, Montgomery, must climb through. As soon as you are within, call to thepoor child and tell her that we are outside and have come to get her. Then you hand us out some heavy tools, --an axe, if you can find one, would be best, --and we'll break down the door. "

With that the lady herself took a stone from the barn-yard wall andcrashed the glass, but Susanna interposed:

"You go right back into the house, Eunice Maitland, and not stay out inthis damp to get your death of cold. And no need to break good doors. Katy ain't no bigger'n Monty, nor so big, an' a hole he can get into shecan come out of. Trust her!"

Miss Maitland would not go indoors, but she did fold the shawl she hadcaught up more closely about her and retreated to the shelter of thecowshed, while Susanna stood listening beneath the window through whichMonty had swiftly disappeared. Fortunately, the storm had greatly abatedand there was less external noise to drown the sounds within, whereMontgomery was now shouting at the top of his voice:

"K-K-Kath-arine! Katy! K-Kitty-kee-hotee!"

"Yelp! Snip! Snap! Gr-r-rrr!" came in response, and Katharine wakedfrom the dreamless sleep into which exhaustion of grief and terror hadthrown her. 

At first she could not comprehend what it all meant. She could only makean effort to restrain the angry pug now escaping from her arms. Then shesaw Montgomery's face at the opening above the bay, brilliantlyilluminated by the lantern held close to his head as he peered inwardspreparatory to a leap. With a scream half of relief, half of dread lestshe should again be deserted, she ran toward the window and held herarms up. 

The light disappeared, but before she had time for a fresh fear, shefelt her hands clasped by Montgomery's sturdy ones, and she was bidden:

"Give a s-s-sp-spring--an' I'll haul you!"

She tried once, twice, and again, but there was no "spring" left in theusually active limbs, and she sank back to the bay, sobbing:

"Oh, I can't! I can't! I've tried and tried and tried! But I shall neverget out. Never, never, never. " And it was proof of the suffering she hadundergone that there was no indignation left against the boy who hadcaused it, but only a hopeless acceptance of a terrible position. 

This was too much for Monty. He would far rather have had her rail athim than sob so heart-brokenly. He began to sob himself in sympathy, andcalled back:

"D-d-don't! Qu-qu-quit it! See. Look up. I'll h-h-hang the lantern onthe sill. I d-d-dassent take it down there, might s-s-set fire to thehay. I'm all r-r-right--I mean you're all r-r-right. Get out the way. I'm c-c-c-comin'!"

In an instant he had leaped down beside her and put his arm around herquivering shoulders. In all his life he had never been so sorry foranybody or anything as now for her and for his own neglectfulselfishness, which had brought her to such a pass. Yet, heedless Montyhad had many causes for regret during his previous career!

"I thought I should die! Oh, it was so awful! I thought I shouldcertainly die here alone in this place. The wind would almost tear theroof off, and Punchy howled--he thought he was dying, too, maybe. But itwas he kept me from it--quite. I never loved him so in all my life!Can--is there a way--you've got in, too, but is there a way out? I washungry, I thought I would starve. Then I forgot that--listening. And thelightning--I was sure it had struck again and again. I waited to see thehay blaze up. Lightning always does strike barns, doesn't it?"

With a philosophy beyond his years Montgomery changed the subject. 

"I shall have to boost you, i-i-if you c-c-can't climb without. P-p-putyour feet right th-th-there--I'm b-bo-boo-boostin' my best! Catch holdthe s-sill! Cracky! Up you g-g-go!"

Up she went, indeed, fear forgotten, every nerve strained, eager alreadyto attain and excel in this new feat of climbing. Folks who lived in thecountry had to climb--or perish--it seemed. And once upon the sill sherolled over it to the broad floor of the barn and felt herself at lastin safety. 

But there still remained that other climb, to reach the broken windowand through it freedom and friends outside. However, this was a trifle. Montgomery brought a short ladder, which he placed beneath the windowthat he had had the forethought to unbolt from the outside, and when thesash rolled back in its groove Katharine was already on the ledge, Susanna's strong arms clasping her and Aunt Eunice standing near. 

Such an hour as followed! Such indigestibly delightful foods as Susannabrought from her storeroom--harbingers of holiday feasts to come--and ofwhich the children were permitted to partake without any harm orrestriction. 

"Let the poor little creatur's get their stummicks full for once, sencenary one hain't had a mouthful of victuals, scurce that, to-day, " criedSusanna, herself feasting her eyes upon the now joyous faces of theyoungsters. 

Then what a tap-tap-tapping sounded on the floor of the kitchenchamber! Aunt Eunice interpreting the same to mean:

"Poor Moses is feeling left out of all our rejoicing and feelsaggrieved. He wants us all to come up and tell him the whole story, since he cannot himself come to us. But alas for Deacon Meakin! I don'tenvy him his forthcoming interview with my hired man to-morrow morning. It is Moses' right to still direct matters, even if he cannot work. Bothmen are what Mrs. Meakin calls 'sot, ' and I foresee some jarring ofwheels, so to speak, before they run smooth. But let us go up at once, and then Monty must be starting home. "

The boy sighed. This was all delightful. Badly as he had behaved, he hadreceived no reproof. Instead of that, there was such rejoicing overKatharine's safety that his sins had, apparently, been forgotten. Yet itmust end--there still remained the long and desolate road home!

Monty talked as fast as ever a boy could, nor did Katharine's tongue lagfar behind, and for a time Moses listened eagerly. Then there came pangsof physical suffering which banished interest in all else, and while hewas meditating how now best to rid himself of his guests, the hall clockstruck nine. 

"Nine o'clock! My suz! I didn't know it was half so late!" criedSusanna, honestly surprised. "Time you was home and abed, MontgomerySturtevant, keepin' your poor grandmother up all hours like this, justaccount your pranks. My suz! and such a day. May I never see anotherlike it!"

"Amen!" echoed poor Mr. Jones, so devoutly and in a voice of suchsuffering that they all silently withdrew. 

"Only nine o'clock? Does nobody ever sit up till a respectable hour, here in Marsden? Why, at home, our evenings never began till after thistime, " remarked Katharine, now so wide-awake, and, it must be confessed, having had her nerves freshly excited by the recital of her woes to thesympathizing ear of Uncle Moses. 

"Pooh! N-n-nine o'clock's n-n-nothing, " assented Monty, who had neverbeen out so late before in all his life. 

"Isn't it?" asked Aunt Eunice, smiling. "Well, all the same, though itis rude to dispatch a guest, I'm sure it is full time for you to be withyour grandmother, as Susanna justly remarked. She is doubtless anxiousabout you; and as for you, Katy dear, you are living in quiet Marsdennow and not your city home. "

The storm was fully over when they opened the great front door, and themoonlight set all the rain-drenched shrubs and trees a-glitter, so thatKatharine exclaimed:

"Oh, look! It seems as if the world was just laughing at itself forhaving been so naughty a little while ago!"

Aunt Eunice gave the child a little squeeze, thinking how "Johnny" wouldhave had just such a fancy, and Monty, wondering if all girls had queerideas, bade them good night and started whistling down the path. 

"We'll stand here till you get beyond the first big tree, my lad, andwe'll follow you in our minds all the way, " said Miss Maitland, kindly. Then to Katharine she added, softly: "He's doing that to keep hiscourage up. "

"All the same he whistles beautifully, " answered the girl, loyally. "Ifhe could only speak as well as he whistles it would be splendid. Why, upthere on the hay-mow to-day, some sort of bird--I think he said it was ameadow-lark, or skylark, or something--anyhow, it sang ex-quis-ite-ly!And he mimicked it so well I almost thought another bird had comethrough the window into the barn. He's a real nice boy, Monty is, but--but he needs some 'retouching, ' as papa darling used to say of hispictures. "

"God bless him--and his own 'Kitty Quixote, '" murmured the old guardian, touched to a tender softness by--ah, many things! and promptlymarshalling her latest charge to bed. 

Lights were out all along the street as Montgomery's passing whistledisturbed the early naps of these quiet folk, who had been so greatlyinterested and wearied by that day's unusual events. But the clear, birdlike tones were comfort to one harassed wanderer. 

Shivering in his wet rags, he crept out from the shelter of a porch tohearken, as those boyish lips sent forth in flute-like tones the melodyof "Home, Sweet Home. " Hearkening, he followed, fearing he should losethe music which impressed him, all unknowing why; and as the whistlerleft the last village house behind him and set out to run over the longstretch of lonely road, which lay between that and the Mansion, thefollower also ran. 

Had Montgomery known this his pace would have been even swifter than itwas, and the mere fear he now felt would have become abject terror. 

But he did not know; and the unknown tramp soon lagged far behind. Hehad neither strength nor desire left to overtake the fleeing lad, sincethe whistling had ceased, and consciousness of his own misery returnedupon him. So, presently he left the highway and limped across the fieldstoward the woods where instinct told him was safe hiding; and Montgomeryreached the stately home of his forefathers in good time. Between theman and the boy there seemed no possible connection, yet circumstanceswere already linking their lives together as with a chain. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

ON A SATURDAY AFTERNOON

When Deacon Meakin found that a barn window had had to be broken becauseof his forgetfulness to mention where he had put the keys, he insistedupon paying for and inserting the new glass himself. This distressedMiss Maitland and delighted Moses; but the new caretaker carried hispoint, declaring:

"If I can't do that I'll throw up the job. My own hired men, 'fore Imoved in, had to pay for their breakin's, and sence I've turned myselfinto a hired man, well, it's a poor rule that don't work both ways, asthe poet says, an' what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, or visy versy. There'll be no foolin' done on these premises whilst I'min charge, an' the very first thing I'll tackle is--cleanin' up. "

"Why, is that necessary? Beyond the work that comes with every day?Surely, Moses is very neat, " protested Eunice, on behalf of her olddisabled helper. 

"Hm-m. There's neatness--an' neatness; an' my friend Jones, he's afisherman first, an' a farmer afterward;" returned the deacon, grimly. 

The real truth was that the deacon had an idea of the wonderful casket'sbeing hidden somewhere in that barn. As he reasoned with himself: "Abarn's the least likely place for robbers to search for hid treasure, whether it is a gold box or a gold mine. Eunice, she is long-headed. Shewouldn't want things in the house that might induce folks' breakin's in, more particular sence Widow Sprigg seen that tramp. She was tellin' me'bout it when I come on the place this mornin'; an' nobody needn't tellme it was just to get a girl out the bay that that winder was stove in. That's all cock-an'-bull yarn; to throw me an' others off the track. ButI'll find out, I'll find out. "

Which shows how far one's imagination may lead in the wrong direction;and also explains why the curious, but well-meaning, man put himself toendless trouble, yet also did his own part in silencing the rumors ofthe previous day. Though, of course, his labors occupied him for severaldays, since the barn was big and his work so thorough. After emptyingand refilling every bin and box, after cleaning every set of harnesswhich had or had not been used for years, brushing the few cobwebs fromthe rafters, sweeping the floors over and over, he repaired to thehay-mow and industriously forked over the whole mass. 

While he was engaged in this operation Susanna visited the barn andasked if he had gone crazy. His answer was:

"No, not crazy, but come to common sense. Don't suppose I'd feel veryChristian-like, do ye, to loaf around doin' next to nothin' an' lettin'a neighbor's hay heat? Might burn ye all up in your beds. "

The widow reëntered the house laughing, but indignant. "Says your hay'sin danger o' heatin', Moses! As if you hadn't cured it till it was dryas tinder 'fore you mowed it up. Well, 'twon't do no harm, an' will keephim out of mischief. He's a reg'lar poke-noser, Deacon Meakin is. Buthe's routed them hens so there won't be no more egg-layin' in highplaces, breakin' a body's neck to hunt 'em. But, my suz! I wish youcould ha' seen that man's face when he handed me over yourfishin'-tackle. You'd ha' thought 'twas poison, the way he touched it. "

Moses was both angry and amused, but contented himself with remarking:

"Si Meakin never could catch fish even when he was boy goin' to school. He was always a gabbler, an' fish has got sense. They won't bite fornoisy folks. Slow an' gentle, bide your time an' keep your mouthshut--that's fishin' for ye. Oh, shall I ever get to go again!"

"Sure. But it's time for your chicken broth. I've stewed it down richan' tasty, an' there's one good thing 'bout broken legs an' ribs: theyain't broken stummicks. I'd ruther you'd have forty broken legs than thedyspepsy, 'cause when I take the pains to cook good victuals, I like tohave 'em et. Now, turn your head a mite. Here's a nice new straw todrink your broth through, an' a pile more for you to chew on, likeyou're always doin'. Seems if a man must always have somethin' in hismouth, an' if it ain't tobacco it's straws. Spriggs he--"

"Don't give me no 'Spriggs, ' to-day; I couldn't stand him. You've toldmore things 'at Spriggs done in his thirty years of life than would ha'kept most men busy till they was a hundered!" cried Moses, petulantly. "And if Kitty Keehoty, or Monty, ary one, comes 'round, do for pity'ssake send 'em up. Here I lie, ball-an'-chained to a bed and things--Oh, dear!"

It was Saturday and a busy time for the housekeeper. She had neitherleisure nor inclination to argue with a fretful patient, so went awayand left him to himself. But she found his desire for Katharine'ssociety an excellent thing. As she had said of Deacon Meakin, "it kep'her out of mischief" to act as nurse to the injured farmer, and he nowdelighted in her. The stories of her old life in the Southern city werealmost like the fairy-tales she retold from printed books; and herlittle provincialisms of speech amused him as much as his countrydialect did her. She had soon dropped into the habit of taking hismeal-trays to him and strictly enforced his eating a "right smart" ofall the nourishments provided. 

At noon of this Saturday she was perched upon the edge of his cot, daintily feeding him with bits of food she had cut up, when there was aclatter of feet upon the stairs, and, breathless as usual, Montgomeryrushed in, announcing, without even a nod to Moses:

"I-it-it's true! Mis' Turner's seen it in her w-w-wood-shed! WidowSprigg wasn't m-m-mis-took!"

"Say 'mistaken, ' Montgomery Sturtevant, and say it slow, " correctedKatharine, severely, yet immediately turning an inquiring look towardUncle Moses. Thus far her efforts to improve her playmate's speech hadbeen a safe secret between the two. They hoped to keep it such until thelad could speak a "whole piece" without stammering. 

But the hired man had not observed her remark, or, if he had, probablyconsidered it but one of her naturally dictatorial sort. 

"A reg'lar tramp, Monty?" he asked, eagerly. 

"R-r-r-regular. Mis' Turner'd put her p-p-pies out to cool on thewood-shed r-r-roof an' they was six seven of 'em, an', sir, w-w-w-whenshe went t-t-t-to take 'em in one was g-one! Yes, sir! An' she seensomethin' b-b-b-lack scooting cross lots, l-l-li-lic-lick--etyc-c-c-ut!"

"Monty, if I were you, I wouldn't try to say 'lickety-cut, ' till--"again reproved the girl-teacher, still forgetful of secrecy. And againMr. Jones ignored her, asking the boy:

"Where was Bob, son of Mrs. Turner, about that time?"

"F-f-fudge! I don't know. Somewhere's r-r-round, m-maybe. But it wasn'thim. 'Twas a b-b-bigger, b-b-be-beard-d-er feller'n him. "

"You said 'six seven' pies. If she didn't know how many she made how'dshe know she lost any?"

"Well, sir! An' there was old Mr. Witherspoon, d-dr-driv-in' downmountain with a load o' c-c-carrots, he--he seen him cr-cr-cross--in'Perkins's corn-field an' he t-thought 'twas a sc-sc-scarecrow, till itwalked. Sc-sc-sc-scarecrows couldn't do that he kn-kn-knew, an'--"

Although Eunice had done her utmost to keep the story of the brass boundbox a secret from even her own household, it was inevitable thatknowledge of it should come to the ears of the sick man, since it wasthe chief interest of the many neighbors who called to see him. Yet allhe could gain from his callers was the vague suspicion eachentertained. He meant now to get at the facts of the case. Montgomeryhad spread the tale, but had strangely kept silence with him, his oldchum. Montgomery should speak now, or Moses would know the reason why;and if he still declined to explain matters he should be punished bybeing left out of the next fishing-party Uncle Mose would organize--ifhe ever fished again! He interrupted, saying:

"Never mind Witherspoon an' the carrots, Monty. Nor tramps, nuther. Sence I ain't constable, to do it myself, I hope the poor creatur' won'tget 'rested. Don't know where'd he be stowed, anyway, in this benightedMarsden, where there ain't neither a jail nor a touch to one. What Iwant to know is: What did you find in Eunice's woods?"

Monty did some rapid thinking, the question had been a surprise, but heanswered, promptly:

"N-n-not-nothing. "

"Montgomery Sturtevant! How dare you? An' I will say that's the firstlie I ever heard you tell. You're bad enough, oh, you're as bad as youneed to be, but--a liar! Whew!"

The lad sprang to his feet, furious. His hands clenched, and it was wellthat his accuser was a disabled old man, else the "hot blood of theSturtevants" might have driven their young descendant to do desperatedeeds. As it was, he choked, glared, and finally stammered:

"I-if you was a boy, an' not old l-li-like you are, I'd make yout-t-take that back, or--k-k-kill you! It's the tr-tr-truth! I don't lie!Do I, K-K-Katharine?"

The girl had never seen anybody so angry. Her own temper was quickenough, but its outbursts short-lived, and she certainly had never hadthe least desire to "kill" anybody. Montgomery looked as if he meant it, and in distress she threw herself upon him forcibly, unclasped hisclenched fingers, and begged:

"Don't say that, Monty! Oh, don't say such dreadful things!" Then facedaround toward the cot, declaring: "He didn't 'lie, ' Uncle Moses. It'strue. He didn't find--"

Oh, she had almost betrayed herself in her eagerness to defend herfriend. 

"Didn't find what, 'Kitty Keehoty'? An' if you didn't yourself, lad, why, you was along at the time. How else--But I'm sorry I used thathateful word. I don't blame you for your spunk. I'd knock a feller down'at called me 'liar' to my face, even now, old an' bedrid' as I be. Itake it back an' call it square--if you will. But tell the hull businessnow, to your poor old fishin' teacher, an' let's be done with mysteries. Eunice, she's as mum as an oyster; an' Susanna, she talks a lot ofexplaining yet don't explain nothin'. What's all about, anyway, that'sset Marsden crazy? Why, one man come to see me, was tellin' ofsearchin'-parties ransackin' our woods, prospectin', or somethin'. D'yeever hear such impudence? Why, if I was constable, I'd arrest everyman-jack of 'em that's dared to put pickaxe or spade in our ground! I'dhave the law on 'em, neighbor or no neighbor. Well, they won't find athing. 'Cept maybe a few chestnuts or such. As for gold--Hm-m! Butsomethin' was found--what was it, Monty?"

The lad's anger was ebbing, but he was still in an unfriendly mood. Besides, he remembered the promise he had made to Aunt Eunice, --brokenbeforehand, --and resolved that he would keep silence now, even if theharm were already done. So he closed his lips very tightly, and lookedsteadily out of the window. Katharine followed this good example, andthe pair seemed wholly absorbed--in nothing at all. 

"Can't you speak? Are you both struck dumb all to oncet? Is that themanners you think's polite?" demanded Mr. Jones, testily. 

Then Monty spoke. "Gr-gram-ma sent me to ask how you w-w-were. I'll goan' tell her. "

"Won't you stay and play? And, oh, let me tell you. Mr. Deacon Meakin iscleaning up the barn just splendidly, and it will be all ready for--youknow what!" cried Katy, excitedly, and forgetful of the keen ears of theman on the cot. She was reminded of them, however, when he againdemanded:

"What's that? What'll the barn be ready for? I want you young ones tounderstand there's to be no monkey shines of any sort whilst I'm laidup. An' you're a sassy pair, the two of ye!"

"I don't mean to be saucy, but you make me. And I guess you must begetting well very fast, 'cause widow says that being cross is a goodsign--and I'm sure you're perfectly horrid, so there!" cried Kate, pertly, and seizing Monty's hand hurried him down the stairs. 

She had no sooner reached the bottom of them than she regretted herimpertinence, and would have returned to apologize, had not Aunt Eunicejust then appeared in the doorway, wearing her street things, whileDeacon Meakin was also bringing the top-buggy around from thecarriage-house. Katharine loved driving, of which luxury she had hadvery little; and the few times she had been out with Miss Maitland sinceher arrival at The Maples had been her happiest hours. The wholecountryside was rich in autumn coloring, and through her artist fatherthe child had learned to "see things. " She was continually surprisingall around her by finding such a store of beauty in every simple thing. A yellow or scarlet leaf was far more than that to her; it was a pictureof varying tints and shades, which she would study with keenestinterest. She had pointed out to Aunt Eunice, upon that last driveup-mountain, at least twenty-five tones of green, and had seized thereins suddenly to stop old Dobbin that she might gaze her full upon adecrepit cedar-tree robed and garlanded with scarlet woodbine. Marsdenvillage might seem dull to her after her city life, but nature more thancompensated; so that now her fear was not that she must stay, but thather guardian--perforce--would tire of her. 

"Oh, aunty! May I go?"

"No, Katharine, not to-day. I am going to visit an old friend, who isvery ill. I do not know when I shall be back, but be a good girl and dowhatever Susanna tells you. Good-by. Good-by, Montgomery. Please give mylove to your grandmother, and thank her for sending to inquire afterMoses. "

Then the lady stepped into the buggy, the deacon chirruped to Dobbin, and they rode away. At the same moment came a shrill whistle from thestreet, and Monty ran to the gate. Bob Turner and a lot of boys werewaiting near, rods over their shoulders and fish-hooks in their pockets, intent upon a Saturday half-holiday at their favorite sport. Besidestheir tackle they had great sacks of burlap, or canvas, because whenthey had caught all the fish in the river they expected to gather allthe chestnuts in the woods. In any case, they were bound for a goodtime, and Montgomery did not hesitate in joining them. He delayed justlong enough to go into the house and secure Moses' oldest line and rod, catch up a basket for nuts, and was off, leaving a very lonely girlstanding on the path and wishing most earnestly that she had been born aboy so she, too, might do things worth while. She had already heard somuch about the delightful art of angling that she longed to try it forherself; but with Uncle Moses helpless, and Monty--so mean!--He mighthave taken her. He might have stayed and talked over their secretscheme, which Deacon Meakin was unconsciously furthering by his ultratidiness. He might, at least, have promised to bring her some chestnuts. But he had done none of these thoughtful things. He had been justplain--boy! Girls? Were there any she might visit uninvited? Aunt Eunicewas very particular about that. She had explained that the Turner girls, Sophronia Walker, and even the Clackett sisters, Mercy and Lucinda, hadmany household duties to perform. Especially on Saturdays were theirservices in demand, since at this time of year there was pickling andpreserving, soap-making and carpet-weaving; even among the more thriftyhouseholds "butchering and packing. " Most families deferred the latteroperation until much colder weather, but, as Susanna expressed it, "there's some in Marsden township 'at if they knowed they was to behung 'd want it done the day afore, they're so forehanded. " Even thewidow herself, Katharine fancied, leaned a little toward this"forehandedness, " since she made fruit-cake six months before it was tobe eaten; and on that memorable night of the storm had actually producedfor each child a piece of the same sort of cake, meltingly luscious andmoist in one's mouth, with the statement that it had been baked justseven years before. And when Katharine had exclaimed in amazement, hadreplied:

"My suz! That's nothin' to what some keeps it. Mis' Turner, she's gotpart her weddin' loaf yet, an' she's been married more years 'an I canexactly recollect; while her own mother has some 'at's twenty-five yearsold. Fact. Hers is gettin' ruther dry, but it's always been kep' in astone crock in a tin case an' only opened a-Thanksgiving time, wheneverybody in the hull connection is to dinner, and is give a tiny bitfor remembrance' sake. "

Thinking over her guardian's information, there seemed to be no housewhere the young folks would have leisure for company, and the homeprospect was rather lonely. 

"Oh, for even a little Snowball to play with! Uncle Moses--I was rude tohim, but he's so cross I can't go back and be shut up with him thisbeautiful afternoon. If I go just to say that I'm sorry he'll make metell him a lot of stories to prove my sorrow. That's one of his ways. The Widow Sprigg is sufficient unto herself and her scrubbing--of aSaturday. I've found that out. Deacon Meakin isn't at the barn and Imight go there, but he's spoiled the barn for me. I feel just as if Iwas in somebody's parlor, some Marsden body's parlor, that's so much inorder it makes everybody who goes into it as stiff as itself. I've foundthat out, too, going calling with Aunt Eunice. I wish--"

Susanna suddenly called out to the girl sitting upon the porch step andthus ruefully communing with herself:

"Ka-ty! Katharine!"

"Yes, Widow Sprigg! Here I am--coming. What is it? Something to do?"

"Well, I should say 'twas somethin' to do! Here's that wild-headed Montytook an' scampered off just as I was takin' this batch of punkin piesout the oven. Eunice wants me to send a couple of 'em to Madam, an' thiscurrant-jell-roll. I laid out to add a loaf of brown bread an' a pat ofbutter, 'cause, say what they will, an' let Madam Sturtevant be as goodbutter maker as they claim, I 'low old Whitey's milk can't hold torichness alongside our young Alderneys; an' besides, can't be much milkleft for butter after Monty an' Alfy's drunk their fill. 'Tain't muchbesides milk they do get, nuther, 'cept what we send 'em. Well, it'smost like two families bein' one the way Eunice she feels. I wonder, could you be trusted to carry the things to the Mansion?"

"Could I not?" cried Katharine, gaily, skipping about the kitchen in herfanciful way at this prospect of a change. "And I'd go that cross-fieldsroad Monty showed me. Over the meadows amongst the goldenrod, past thestone walls where the woodbine and clematis run over each other tryingto make the old gray rocks beautiful. There's a corn-field down besidethe river so like a picture papa painted that I can almost see his dearhand holding the brush. And the forest is like a great palette set fullof reds and blues and greens and yellows, out of God's own color-box. Oh, it's such a glorious old world, Susanna, and I'm so glad, so glad tobe alive!"

The widow put her arms akimbo and looked at Katharine over herspectacles, as she might have studied some new and rather formidableinsect. Then she remarked:

"My suz! you didn't look none too peart when I first called ye. If I'dhad an opinion to give I should ha' give it that you was down in themouth. Well, never mind. You're a funny child, but I guess you'll makesome kind of woman if you live long enough. Hand me down that basketfrom the second pantry shelf, whilst I wrop that jell-roll in a napkin. Take notice of the basket. Eunice, she had it made to thebasket-maker's up-mountain. She's dreadful good to the basket-makers, Eunice is. "

"Widow Sprigg, I think she's 'dreadful good' to everybody--to everybodylives. Yet she looks so sort of stern and dignified sometimes I feelafraid of her. But it is a curious basket, truly. What--"

"Watch an' see, an' don't ask so many questions. Girls' eyes ought tosave their tongues. "

The basket was beautifully woven of finest willow, and was like a tinycupboard in the matter of shelves, each shelf fitted with a little rimto keep whatever might be placed upon it from slipping off. There weresix of these shelves, all removable at will, and Susanna now took outall but two. Upon these she placed the pies, and in the larger spacesleft bestowed a monster loaf of brown bread, the jell-roll and thebutter. As there was still a small part unfilled she added a tumbler ofstrained honey, covered the whole with a napkin, hooked down the lid, and said:

"Now get your hat and jacket. See 't your shoes is tied; them silkstrings is too fancy for use. Got a handkerchief? All your buttonsfastened? Feel just comf'table everyways?"

"Yes, you dear old caretaker! I'm what Uncle Moses calls as 'right as atrivet, ' whatever that may be. "

Katharine sped away for her jacket, and in passing a hall shelf noticedlying upon it a pile of Uncle Moses' "tackle, " including a wonderfuljointed rod that he had always thought too fine for use, but one whichher own father had sent as a gift years before she was born. It had beenbrought forth and exhibited to her, and had since reposed among lessvaluable belongings in this conspicuous place. Her father was much inher mind that day, and the rod seemed to bring him even nearer. A whimseized her. Since there was nobody to teach her about fishing she wouldeven teach herself. What her father had done as a little boy must beright for her, his child. So, when she left the house a few minuteslater, the rod was in her hand, line and fish-hooks in her pocket. Norhad she thought it necessary to mention this fact to Susanna when sheappeared before the housekeeper to receive her basket. 

"Take dreadful care of it, Katy. I know it's heavy, but 'twon't be onlyone way. It'll be empty comin' back, and I do hope the victuals will eatwell!"

They were destined to "eat" uncommonly "well;" but, alas! not by themouths for which they were intended. 

CHAPTER XV. 

BY THE OLD STONE BRIDGE

One came down into the long, main street of Marsden village from a hillat either end, and through an avenue of trees whose branches metoverhead. There were a few side streets, with scattering houses, and the"Crossroads" nearly midway of the chief thoroughfare, with its fourcorners occupied by the church, the schoolhouse, the post-office, andthe tavern. On the north side the ground rose gently for a distance, then climbed abruptly to the "mountain, " in reality but a high, woodedhill. On the south there were rich meadows, wide pastures, and thewinding noisy river, that darted here and there through the valley as ifhaving no mind of its own which way it should run. On this south sidewas also the great forest called "Maitland's woods, " that alreadyKatharine had learned to love almost as warmly as did Aunt Eunice. Tothe latter the forest was as something sacred, a spot where natureshould have her will and not despoiling man. When firewood must be cutfrom it, for coal was an unknown fuel in Marsden, she went herself toselect such trees as must be sacrificed--always the unsightly ones whichstorms had broken, not trusting even Moses to cut one till she hadcondemned it. 

As that unfortunate man had observed:

"If Eunice she had let me trim out the under-bresh now an' then Ishouldn't ha' broke my leg a-stumblin' over old tree-roots. But, no!Things must be kep' just as they was in the old Colonel's time, nomatter what! She 'pears to think that timber's got as much feelin' asfolks, an' I 'low there ain't no other oaks an' pines an' maples tocompare with 'em left this section of the State. It makes me plumb wildto lie here helpless, an' think o' them villagers a-trompin' her brakesan' scarin' them gray squir'ls that there's so few of, anyway, let alonethe birds an' chipmunks! Oh, hum!"

Surely, there was no lovelier spot in the world, so Katharine felt, finding the basket rather heavy, and running across fields the sooner tobe rid of it. But this by-path led to the river and a quaint old-timebridge which spanned it; and here the girl meant to rest and giveherself a lesson in angling. Setting her basket down in the shade ofsome alder-bushes, she swung her feet over the stone ledge of the bridgeand prepared to arrange her tackle. To fit the jointed rod into adesirable length was simple enough, and to attach the line with itshook as easy; but there trouble began. 

"I never thought a thing about bait, and where shall I get it? I supposethe ground is just as full of worms here as it is in the garden wherethe boys dig them. But--ugh! Shall I dare to touch one if I find it?"she asked herself. Then as promptly exclaimed: "I must! I just must!I'll catch the nicest fish out the water and take it home to Uncle Mosesfor his supper. Susanna will cook it, I'm sure--or, maybe, let me do itmyself. Then I'll take it to that poor sick man on one Aunt Eunice'sprettiest dishes, and he'll forgive me for saying such impudent thingsto him. It will make it easier to apologize if I have a gift in myhand, " said this wise little maid. Unfortunately, she said it aloud, having the bad habit of talking to herself whenever there was nobodyelse to talk to. 

Then, picking up a sharp stick, she resolutely set to work to unearth anangleworm. But this was difficult. The mold was hard and sunbaked, andthe stick of little use. Its point broke repeatedly; yet the longer shelabored the more determined she became, and finally she did succeed indriving a red earthworm from its haunts. No sooner had it come to thesurface than she sprang away in disgust, exclaiming:

"Oh, you nasty, dirty, squirmy thing! I wouldn't touch you for anything!Indeed, I'll never learn to fish if I have to handle such beasts asyou. Monty takes them in his fingers, and even cuts them in pieces if hedoesn't have enough without. The horrid boy! He says it doesn't hurtthem, that they're so used to it, an' till this minute I never thoughthow little sense there was in that. I--I guess I'll put a leaf on thehook and throw that in. I should think a fish would rather eat a niceclean leaf than a worm. "

Selecting a bit of the red sorrel growing near, she baited her hook andcast her line. She had learned how to do that from seeing Uncle Mosestest his various rods at home, and set herself to wait and watch withthe "patience" he prescribed for any successful angler. 

Waiting, she fell to day-dreaming, and, for her further ease in thisline, curled herself down in the shade of the alders and closed hereyes. Beautiful pictures came to her behind those shut lids, none morelovely than this very scene of which she fancied she was the only livinghuman feature. 

"All alone in God's beautiful world! With the sky so blue and white; thewoods so--so every wonderful color; the river so dark and babble-y, chattering over the stones that it had more to say than it had time tosay it in; the birds singing and flying; the air so soft and warm; andnobody here but me! Well, I'm glad that even I am here, just a littlegirl like me, to tell Him there is somebody who sees and thanks Him!"

Then away she drifted into thoughts she could not have framed in words, but which kept all fear from her and filled her young soul with alonging to be good and to do good. 

But she was not alone as she believed. Among those same alders liningthe river bank lay another of God's creatures, whose dreams were unlikethe child's, indeed, but upon whose clouded mind the beauty of that hourwas not wholly lost. He had been asleep, as she afterward declared shehad not been, and her converse with herself aroused him. He had laindown where the bushes screened him well--for hiding was a second natureto this man--and he did not move when he awoke. He merely fixed his eyesupon Katharine as he saw her through the branches and watched what shewould do. He saw her fix her tackle, her struggle with herselfconcerning the earthworm, and smiled dully. Once he had fished from thatsame bridge. From among many later and less pleasant memories that stoodout as clearly as anything in these later days was ever clear to thisunfortunate. Ah! the girl was going to sleep! and he would fish again!

Very slowly and cautiously, lest he should awaken her, he crept forwardthrough the bushes, out upon the bank where the smooth grass madecreeping easier, inch by inch forward till he had come face to facewith her. Then a sudden grasp at the rod in her hand and she awoke, sprang to her feet, beheld him, and in her fear leaped backward, unheeding where she set her foot. It had chanced to be upon a loose rockwhich rolled downwards with her, and she felt herself falling into thestream. 

But she did not reach the water. Her skirts were clasped firmly andherself dragged backward, to be dropped upon the ground with more forcethan needful. It was all done in a second or two of time, but itsufficed to show her that she had escaped one peril but to encounteranother. The man who had pulled her from the river, the man who sat nowclose beside her, was Marsden's much discussed--tramp!

For a moment her heart almost stopped beating, and she turned her eyeswith a hopeless glance across the fields by which she had come. Oh, howwide they were and how desolate! All their glorious beauty faded fromher vision till they seemed but an endless waste between her and safety. Oh, if she had only gone by the straight and longer road, instead ofyielding to a whim she had not dared to speak of to Susanna! If shehadn't stopped to fish she would already have been at the Mansion, whichnow it seemed she would never see again. A tramp. It was the one thingin the world of which she had the greatest fear, and the behavior ofWidow Sprigg, as well as the other villagers, had convinced her thathere was a tramp of the worst variety. 

Then her sense of what was "fair" made her force her eyes toward herunwished-for companion. To her surprise he was not paying the slightestattention to her, and he didn't look so--well, not so fearfully wicked. He certainly was clothed in the poorest and dirtiest of rags. His barefeet showed through the holes in his shoes. His hat had a brim buthalf-way around. His hair had not seen a comb for so long that he musthave forgotten what a comb was like. His face was roughly bearded, butit was very pale and not so dirty as his hands. His eyebrows stood outat an angle above his wild eyes, and were the bushiest she had everseen, except Squire Pettijohn's. He wasn't a bit like that sleek andportly gentleman, yet, even as he had done in Alfaretta's case, hebrought the village potentate to mind. And--what was it he was doing?

With an old clasp-knife he had drawn from his rags he was digging bait!Not as she had dug, with timid, tentative jabs from the point of astick, but systematically, thoroughly, just as Monty would have done. Hehad found a spot where the earth was soft and rich, and was whollyabsorbed in his task. So absorbed that Katharine felt it safe to attemptflight, and got upon her feet. 

But he pulled her roughly down again. Yet he showed no enmity towardher, and with the swift intuition of youth she comprehended that hewished her to stay and see him fish. He, the tramp, was to give her herfirst lesson in angling! What, what would Uncle Moses say?

Always quick to see the comic side of any incident, Katy laughed. Shecouldn't have helped it even if he had struck her the next instant. Hedidn't strike, he merely laughed in response--his first laughter of manydays. Then he looked into her face, stared, and stared again. Stared solong that Katharine put her hand to it wondering what was amiss. When heturned his gaze aside he fixed it on the chattering river and becameoblivious to everything else. Within his brain there was working anothermemory, evoked by her brown eyes; eyes so like her father's that whenshe sometimes looked at Susanna, that good woman begged her turn herglance away, saying:

"You're so like Johnny you give me the creeps!"

Susanna was often getting the "creeps, " and Katy wondered if she hadgiven them to this poor wretch also, since, though he had seemed soanxious to fish a few moments ago, he had now apparently forgotten allabout it. She gathered all her courage and put out her hand to take therod. 

"If you please, mister, I must be going now. Will you give me mythings?"

"Bime by. Wait. Don't talk. In a minute I'll have a whopper. "

It was a relief to hear him speak in such an ordinary way. She hadsupposed that the language of tramps was something wholly vile. Hisvoice was husky, but that might be from illness, for he certainly didlook ill. Well, if he wanted her to stay she would better please him. Hewould tire of keeping her there after awhile, or so she hoped. Even atramp couldn't go on fishing forever, and somebody might come. 

He was really very skilful. Almost as soon as Uncle Moses could havedone so he had landed his first catch and left it floundering on thebank. Katharine had never thought about the cruel side of angling. Itwas left for this forlorn creature to teach her that of this prettypastime there is something else than lounging beside charming waterwaysand beneath green boughs. Angleworms might not suffer much, might evenget used to being tortured, as Montgomery averred; but how about thatbeautiful shining thing done to slow death on the sward beside her? Anew pity for this humbler of God's creatures made her forget herlingering fear of the man. With a cry she snatched the rod from hishand, exclaiming:

"You sha'n't do that any more! It's wicked! Oh, the poor, pretty thing!We have taken away its life and we can never give it back again. I feelas if I had seen murder done. I understand Aunt Eunice now about thepoultry. Oh, it is dreadful!"

This was the girl's first knowledge of killing, and she was extreme inher revulsion as she was in all things. But her emotion was a good thingbecause it recalled her to the fact that she had something else to do. She must be about it at once, and if the man followed or annoyedher--why, she must trust she could escape him. 

Rapidly unfolding the rod, she was conscious that the tramp was againregarding her with that intent gaze which had nothing menacing in it, but was rather wistful and sad. He did not resent her stopping hissport, and, turning away from her, he picked up the fish and tossed itback into the water. Then she went a few steps to where she had placedthe basket and drew it out from the alders. 

Now his whole attitude changed. He had not suffered greatly from hungerheretofore. The gardens and fields were too rich just then with fruitsand vegetables, and nobody missed a few potatoes from the heaps dug, norcorn from the shocks. There were apples galore, and in some orchardspears and even plums. The stone walls bordering the farms were hung withwild frost-grapes, while the nut-trees offered their abundance towhomsoever would accept. Beneath these same trees there was game to beensnared even by one who carried no gun, and as for poultry-yards, nearly every householder had one. Nobody, not even a tramp, need gohungry on that countryside, unless his scruples prevented him fromhelping himself. 

This particular tramp had no scruples of that sort whatever. AsKatharine picked up her heavy basket, he was upon his feet and relievedher of the burden at once. She tried to retain her hold of the handle, but was no match for him in strength, and had to watch him drop downupon the bank, tear apart the two halves of the cover, and explore thecontents. 

She made one effort to rescue Susanna's good things from this "thief, "as she now knew him to be, but he flung her hands aside so rudely hehurt them; and when she cried to him: "You mustn't! You must not touchthose things, they aren't mine!" he did not notice her. 

Already one pumpkin pie was half-devoured. Uncooked food from the fieldsmay, indeed, prevent starvation, but here was luxury. If "the proof ofthe pudding is in the eating, " Susanna Sprigg should have been highlyflattered. Katharine had never seen anybody eat as this man did. Beforeshe could say, "Well, you sha'n't have the basket, even if you do stealthe things from it!" the first pie had wholly gone. He tried a littlevariety: broke the brown loaf in two, and, unrolling the pat of butter, generously smeared it, using his dirty hands for knife. 

[Illustration: "ALREADY ONE PUMPKIN PIE WAS HALF-DEVOURED"]

This was wretchedly disgusting but--fascinating. It reminded the youngBaltimorean of feeding-time at the Zoo. She also dropped upon the swardto watch, and to recover her basket when he should have done with itscontents. 

He left none of them. The honey followed the bread and butter, and thejell-roll followed the honey. Then he returned to his first delight andfinished the second pie. By this time satiety. Full fed and rested hecrawled back among the alders and lay down to sleep. Crawled so far andso deep among them that even the watching girl could scarcely see him. 

But she had no desire left for further observation. He had provedhimself a harmless bugaboo, and she would not be afraid of him, meet himwhere she might--so she felt then. 

Yet there remained some ugly facts to be dealt with. One, the emptycupboard at the Mansion, always so faithfully replenished for theSabbath by the untiring care of Aunt Eunice. One, the cherished rod thathad snapped asunder as she forced it from the tramp's grasp. Andone--the well-deserved anger of the Widow Susanna Sprigg. 

She gathered what comfort she could, hoping against hope that for onceMadam Sturtevant had made provision for her own Sabbath feasts; andthat, though the rod might be broken, and because of its association notto be replaced, she could buy another even better. She had ten dollarsof her own, her very own. It was as yet unbroken even if in herintention she had already expended it on many, many things. But thereremained that other formidable fact--the Widow Sprigg. 

How meet her inquiring glances? How convince her that she was stillworthy of trust who had proved herself unworthy? How endure the torrentof indignation, certain to be let loose upon her when she reappeared atthe kitchen door?

Well, she had the basket! That was yet another and comforting fact. Shehugged it close as she entered the back yard where the housekeeper waswashing the stone path with a vigor as great as if it were the beginningand not the end of the day. As the gate-latch clicked Susanna looked up, and Katharine saw that she was "just as cross as she always is onSaturday afternoon. "

"My suz! You back a'ready?"

"Yes, Susanna. "

"Well, what you so mealy-mouthed about? You ain't nigh so peart andhop-skippin' as you was when you started. Didn't you get a good welcometo the Mansion? Wasn't Madam to home? Don't squeeze that basket sotight. Eunice won't admire to have it smashed. "

"I won't smash it, Susanna. "

Katharine wondered why she should be so afraid of this sharp-tonguedwoman when she hadn't been really afraid of the disreputable tramp. Shewondered why she couldn't burst forth with her story, which certainlywas a strange one, as sure of sympathy here as she would have been withAunt Eunice. Perhaps that dear, if dignified, old lady had returned, andif so she would go straight to her. 

"Has aunty come, Widow Sprigg?"

"No. She hain't. Nor likely to. Word's come, though, that we needn'tlook for her till we see her. That sick woman is so glad to have hershe's goin' to keep her over Sabbath, an' I warn you, what with Moses onmy hands an' the hull house to look after, I want no monkey-shines fromyou. Well, what did Madam say? Didn't she think my butter was as good ashers? Hey? What?"

Hope died in Katharine's breast. At first she had loved Susanna best, better than Miss Maitland. Now, for just one look into Eunice's face!

But she wouldn't be a coward. Feeling that she had done something verywrong, yet not knowing how she could have helped it, she looked straightinto Susanna's eyes, and answered:

"I haven't seen Madam Sturtevant. I didn't go there. "

Over the rest of that interview it is well to draw a veil. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE COTTAGE IN THE WOOD

After having cried herself to sleep in the sitting-room chamber, feelingvery lonely and forlorn because Aunt Eunice was not in her own adjoiningroom, Katharine awoke to find another beautiful day gladdening the worldand herself as well. Who could be unhappy with such sunlight shiningthrough such golden maples, underneath a sky so blue?

 "Every day is a fresh beginning, Every morn is the world made new, "

sang the girl, springing from bed and running to her bath; a daily habitwhich surprised and pleased both Miss Maitland and the housekeeper, accustomed as they were to the rebellion of young Marsdenites to even aweekly tubbing. A habit which had done much to win Eunice's favor towardthe "second Mrs. John, " and between whom and herself now existed afriendly and frequent correspondence. "She is a good woman, intenselypractical; and Katharine is a good child, intensely romantic; and notall good people may live comfortably together. But there is no 'cruelstepmother' in her, and I mean to invite her and the little Snowballsout to visit us next summer. It shall not be my fault if there does notyet grow the closest affection between Johnny's chosen wife and Johnny'sdaughter, " had remarked the mistress of The Maples, some time before. 

To which Susanna had pertinently replied:

"Well, next summer ain't tetched yet, an' we may all be in our gravesbefore that time. "

"Very true, my friend, though I don't expect to be in mine, " answeredEunice, cheerfully, and wisely changed the subject, though not herintention. 

Not only had Katharine forgotten her unhappiness of the night before, but Susanna had also rested and recovered her good nature. She felt thatit would never do for an old lady like herself to apologize to a childfor the hard words spoken "in the way of discipline, " but now that shehad had time to think it over she did not see how Katy had been sogreatly to blame. Besides, she was just wild to ask questions concerningthe tramp, and privately looked upon the little girl as a very heroinefor bravery, in that she had neither fainted nor been greatly afraidduring her interview with the wanderer. 

Katy had been given a bread and milk supper and sent to her room, feeling herself in disgrace. She had not even been allowed to visitMoses and offer her apologies for her rudeness to him; so that if it hadnot been a wholly "black" Saturday, it had been a very dark Saturdayevening. 

But Saturday was past, a beautiful Lord's Day was blessing His earth, and it was not for His children to keep offence with one another. 

As her own overture to a Sabbath peace, Susanna went to the foot of thestairs and called, in her cheerfullest voice:

"Time to get up, 'Kitty Keehoty'!"

"Oh, yes! Good morning, Susanna! I've been up ever so long--much as tenminutes, I guess. "

"Flannel cakes an' maple syrup for breakfast, " returned the housekeeper, as a parting salute, and really very happy to have all clouds blown freeof the domestic sky. 

Moses had already breakfasted, and had by this time become so faraccustomed to his hard position on the cot that he had ceased to grumbleat it. That is, he had not grumbled on that morning, and had forgottenhis growls of yesterday. He was ready with a smile for his little nursewhen she came in with the new copy of the _Chronicle_, to read him a fewparagraphs while Susanna fried the cakes. Later, she brought a big bunchof chrysanthemums and put them on his bureau; then tidied the room evenbeyond its usual order, since on Sundays, when his neighbors hadleisure, the invalid was sure to have many visitors. 

Indeed, as Susanna informed Katharine at breakfast, Deacon Meakinhimself was coming to sit the whole afternoon with his afflictedpredecessor. Kate, herself, was to go alone to church in the morning, and remember that she was to behave exactly as if Eunice were besideher. In the afternoon, during the deacon's temporary charge of thehouse, Susanna would take Katharine on that long promised walk to "mycottage. "

"I've been terr'ble anxious 'bout it ever sence that tramp come to town, an' now sence you've seen an' talked with him, an' I know that he'srunnin' 'round loose still, I must go take a look. That's the worst o'prope'ty, it's a dreadful care. "

"But it must be just delightful to own such a cute little cottage asyours, all vines and trees--"

"The chimbley smoked, " interjected the widow, feeling free to disparageher own "prope'ty, " though she would have resented such a remark fromanother. 

"That could be fixed, I reckon. When I saw it from the stage, coming, Ithought it was just like a doll-house, or a child's playhouse. "

"Huh! You did, did you? Well, let me tell you, Katharine Maitland, thathouse is a good one. Spriggs, he had it built first-class, with a roomfinished off in the roof--attic, he called it--three good rooms on theground floor, white-painted clapboards an' reg'lar blinds, green blindswith slats turnin' easy as nothin'. Not like the old-fashioned woodenshutters, so clumsy 't you can't see out to tell who's comin' along theroad without openin' the hull concern. And it has as good a system ofwater as Squire Pettijohn's, only not so big. Sprigg, he bricked it allup, hauled the bricks himself clean in from the county town, an' it'sgot a manhole 'twill let ary man down it that wants to go. My house maynot be as big as the moon, but it's got as good a system of water asEunice's even. "

Katharine's eyes twinkled. Until she came to Marsden she had never heardof a cistern; all the water used in her city home had been piped into itfrom a reservoir, which supplied all the other houses also; but she hadlearned what Susanna meant by "system, " because the Turners had hadtheirs cleaned out only the week before. 

"What's the 'manhole, ' Susanna?"

"My suz! You do ask the ridicylousest questions. It's a hole left in thetop for folks to go down into it, if they want to. "

"Well, I shouldn't think they'd ever want to. And the Turners' manholemust be very small, smaller than yours, maybe; because they sent Bobdown to clean it, and he got stuck coming out. His mother was scaredalmost into a fit, and the girls cried and Mr. Turner--said things. Hetold Bob if he ever got him out alive he'd teach him to live on lightrations for awhile. Bob's so fat, you know. It was so funny, and yet Iwas frightened, too. I suppose if he had stuck too tight they'd have hadto break the bricks away, but he squeezed through all right. He hasn'tspoken to me since, though. Just because I laughed. "

"My suz, Kitty! if you ain't the greatest one for bein' everywhere 'tanything's goin' on. You hain't been here but a month, yet you know morefolks, been into more houses, seems if, than I have, who've lived hereall my life. An' the idee! Tearin' away good bricks just to get awuthless boy out, like that Bob. I cal'late his pa would ha' thoughttwice 'fore it come to that. He'd have made the young one scrougehimself up dreadful narrow an' wriggle himself free, somehow. But there. No use worryin' about my system, 'cause I had the leader-pipe turnedt'other way so no rain could run into it. It's as dry as a floor now. Mysuz! What a long walk it is, an' how warm it does keep. I never knowedsuch a fall, no weather fit for killin' nor nothin', but just likemidsummer, " bewailed Susanna, lagging on the long woodland path. 

"I never knew such a fall, either. I never dreamed that the world couldbe so lovely. I have only been in the country a fortnight at a time inAugust, until I came to Marsden, but I love it, I love it! And I thinkyou're dressed too warm. What made you put on that heavy wool gown andshawl? And a veil, too. I should think you'd roast, and your face is thecolor of boiled lobster, " said Katharine, with hapless frankness. 

Their talk had been along the way, and their goal was already in sightthrough the trees. Poor Susanna had scarcely breath to retort, butmanaged to say:

"Ain't it the time o' year to put on thick clothes? an' am I to blame ifthe weather don't know its own business?"

Then, for a peace-offering, Katharine handed her companion a beautifulfern, which the widow tossed aside contemptuously, with:

"Huh! What do I want with a brake? Eunice, she litters the house with'em bad enough. I ain't a-goin' to add to the muss. Well, here we be, an' there's the key. I've come here alone time an' time again an' neverfelt the creeps a-doin' it afore to-day. But--my suz! I wouldn't ha'come now without you to keep me comp'ny, not for anything. "

"That's flattering! Am I so brave, then?" asked the girl, giving thehousekeeper a sudden little hug. 

"Yes, you be. But, my suz! You needn't knock my bunnit off with yourfoolishness. Seems if this key's gettin' rusty, or else--can't be thedoor's unlocked, can it?"

"I'm sure I don't know. I was never here before. " Then, as the dooropened, sniffing a little at the musty odor incident to a tightly closedapartment: "Whew! It needs airing, anyway. Let's throw up all the sashesand set the blinds wide, then it will be the sweetest little cottage inthe world. "

"Well, you may. And when you've done these down here, you might--youmight go up attic and open that winder, too. It's there I've got mythings stored that I've been layin' out to show you, soon's I could. Mean' Moses an' Eunice is all a-gettin' old. It's time somebody youngeran' likelier to live longer should know. This walk to-day tells me 'at Iain't so spry as I used to be. No tellin', no tellin'. We're here now, an' there some other time, an' life's a shadder, a shadder, " ruminatedthe widow, sitting down on the door-step, and not anxious, apparently, to enter the cottage first. 

Which fact Katharine was quick to observe and comment upon, with alaugh: "Oh, you blessed old coward! You're afraid that tramp has shuthimself up in your 'prope'ty, ' and you'll come upon him unawares. You'd'risk' me, just as Monty 'risked' Ned Clackett to climb the schoolhouseroof after a ball, not daring to go himself. Well, here goes! You keepwatch without while I search within. "

Susanna laughed. She was afraid, and owned it frankly; but afterKatharine had ransacked the few rooms thoroughly, peeped under the bedin the kitchen-bedroom, opened the few closet doors, and even examinedthe wall cupboard, she gathered courage to enter, and promptly led theway up-stairs. 

The little home was plainly furnished, but represented the romance ofher life to old Susanna. Memories of her youth came back and softenedthe asperity of age, her wrinkled face taking on gentler lines and herharsh voice a tenderer tone. But to-day she was in haste. She feltherself needed at The Maples, even with the capable Deacon Meakin leftto "hold the fort, " as he expressed it. Going to a chest of drawers sheopened the top one and displayed a store of blankets, different fromthose Katharine had seen. They looked like very coarse and heavyflannel, and were yellow with age. "Them was part of my fittin' out. Ispun an' wove 'em myself, whilst Sprigg an' me was walkin' outtogether, " she explained, carefully peering into the folds of the cloth, in search of any vagrant moth. 

"Why, how in the world could you do that? I thought when one spun andwove they had to have wheels and looms and things. How could you carrysuch about with you, even with Sprigg, I mean Mr. Sprigg, to help?"

Susanna looked over her spectacles more hurt than angry. But she sawonly honest surprise on the girl's face, and, after a pause, explained:

"'Walkin' out together' means keepin' comp'ny; as men an' women dowho've promised to marry each other. "

"Oh, an engagement! I remember quite well, too well, when papa and Mrs. Snowball 'walked out together. ' It quite did away with the delightful'walkin' out' I had always had with him before that time. "

"Well, Katy, be sure if Johnny picked her out she was the right one, an'me an' Eunice hopes to see the pair of ye good friends yet. We're layin'out to have all them little Snowballs down here, or up here, nextsummer, if we live to see another summer, an' make up our own minds asto how things is. We've settled that. "

Which shows that even strong-minded women like Susanna may sometimeschange their minds; also lay claim to ideas not originally their own. But the effect upon Katharine was to sober her completely, and, oddlyenough, make her a bit homesick for the old life and the noisy littlebrothers. She fell to thinking about them so earnestly that she scarcelyheard what else the widow was saying, until she was touched upon thearm, and bidden:

"Now, look sharp an' remember. Here 'tis, my shroud an' all goes withit. "

"Your--w-h-a-t?" gasped Katharine. 

Susanna again looked her surprise, but she was perfectly calm, evencheerfully interested; and, to enlighten the other's ignorance, patiently explained. 

"I said my shroud, that I am to be wropped in when I'm buried. I made ityears ago, an' styles has changed some, I hear. But this is good, an''ll be easy for 'em that does it to put on me. It's keepin' real well, nice an' white. Here's the suit of underclothes goes with it, all new, white stockin's--loose an' roomy, an' pins an' needles an' thread--not athing wantin', so fur as I know. Why, child, what ails you? You look asif you had seen a ghost. "

Poor Katharine was so shocked by this revelation which the other made socalmly, that she had turned quite white, and found some difficulty tocontrol her voice, as she returned:

"It's so--so horrible, so ghastly! Right here in all this glory of lifeto be anticipating the grave! Give the dreadful things to me. I hate totouch them, but I'll make myself. I'll carry them right down into thekitchen and make a fire in the stove and burn them up, up, up! Oh, Susanna! how could you?"

The old housekeeper was in her own turn as genuinely surprised. In manya household she knew just such provision for a sad day had been made. She had even once assisted at a "bee, " where several women had assembledto prepare a burial garment for an old, bedridden neighbor, who, less"forehanded" than Marsdenites in general, had neglected to provide onefor herself. The careless creature was living yet, and likely to outlivemany a stronger woman, but that didn't matter. However, such ignoranceas Katharine's did not surprise her so much as it would have done hadthe child's "raising" been in the more favored environment she hadherself enjoyed. Of course, she did not yield her treasures to thedestruction suggested. She merely closed that drawer and opened another;and here, indeed, her whole bearing changed. Uncovering a bigpaste-board box, she showed a quantity of little garments, oddlyfashioned, but beautifully preserved, the very folds in which they hadbeen laid away still crisp and fresh. 

Over and over the time-yellowed muslin her work-knotted fingers passedand repassed. Her touch was the touch of a mother upon her first-born, and the years that had been between the day of his coming and this wereforgotten. 

Katharine watching, understood. Her sympathy brought a moisture to herown eyes, which now regarded the childless old woman in a new andreverent light. Never again would Susanna be just the same to her younghousemate that she had been. The girl was learning life. Yesterday herlesson--that not all of God's vagrants are vile; to-day--that allsharp-tongued women are not viragoes. 

After a time, said the widow, simply: "Them was my baby's, " and softlyclosed the drawer. 

They were well on the way home when Susanna suddenly exclaimed:

"My suz! Ever see such a simpleton? I clean forgot to lock the door; an'that kitchen-bedroom winder, I doubt that you went near it. "

"No, I didn't. I forgot, too. Never mind, you sit here and rest. I'llrun back and fasten the whole house, and won't be long. Or you go ontoward home and I'll overtake you. "

"Sure you just as lief? Well, I don't s'pose you would be afraid now, after I've been there with ye to show you there wasn't nothin' nornobody there, an' I 'low I'd ought to be back soon's I can, " respondedthe housekeeper. 

"Afraid? Why, it was you yourself was afraid, you dear old make-believe!But go on, just the same. I'll make haste, " cried Kate, laughing at theother's altered mind, and immediately darting backward through theforest toward the cottage. 

The Widow Sprigg walked forward, slowly; pausing here to pick up a nut, or there to examine a tree which she would tell Eunice might better befelled. As she walked she became uneasy, feeling that she had reallyimposed an unpleasant, possibly perilous, task upon the girl she scoldedso freely yet already loved so dearly. Gathering a sprig of wintergreenshe chewed it thoughtfully, and scarcely knew when she turned back toretrace her own steps to the cottage and learn what had befallenKatharine, who surely should have been in sight long before. 

She came, at last, breathless and excited, catching the widow's arm anddragging her farther into the wood, but saying nothing save thatimperative: "Come! Oh, come quick! Quick! We may be too late!"

Perforce the other "came, " and there, on her kitchen-bedroom bed, layMarsden's "tramp, " seemingly sick unto death. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

A SELF-ELECTED CONSTABLE

If Susanna could ever have been "knocked down with a feather, " as sheoften averred, she might have been then. 

Indignation, consternation, amazement, all the emotions which have to beexpressed in polysyllables, pictured themselves on her countenance asshe paused on the bedroom threshold and looked at the intruder over herspectacles, through them, and below them. He lay face down upon thepillows, his dirty boots reposing on her choicest log-cabin quilt, andhis groans fairly chilling the blood even in her veins, used though shewas to the habits of men in illness. Moses, in his groaniest days, hadrarely equalled this. 

After the moment's pause her mind worked quickly, and she expressed itin words, spoken more to herself than to Kate, close beside her. 

"He mustn't lie there, that way, with them filthy old shoes on. He actsas if he was at the p'int o' death, though folks a-dyin' don't gen'allycaterwaul like that. I bet I know what ails him! It's them pies an'things he stole! If 'tis, I'm glad of it, serves him right!" shefinished, triumphantly, and in her satisfaction went so far as toapproach the bed and shake the man's shoulder. 

At first he paid no attention to her, and his groans did not cease, though they became rather intermittent, as if the paroxysms of pain wereless frequent. Finally, her voice, now pitched to its shrillest, penetrated his consciousness, and at her question: "What's the matterwith ye? Got the colic?" he turned upon his side and his face wasrevealed. 

Then, indeed, did Susanna's countenance undergo a more wonderful change. All the emotions which had earlier crossed it concentrated in oneprolonged stare, while she felt her strength oozing from her till sheknew she should fall. Her hand left the stranger's shoulder and droppedlimply to her side, her jaw fell, and she would have sunk down upon thefloor had not Katharine slipped a chair forward to receive her. Uponthis she settled, still staring and speechless; and as if he, too, wereprofoundly moved, the tramp ceased groaning altogether and fixed hisburning gaze on her. So they remained, and for so long, that Kate grewfrantic, and begged:

"Oh, Susanna! what is wrong? Why do you look at him like that? Why doeshe look at you? Is he dying? Do you know him? Does he know you? Can't wedo something for him? It's so dreadful to see anybody suffer. Even he, poor fellow, who--"

The Widow Sprigg held up a shaking hand protesting against this volleyof questions and answering none. But after a little time the woman inher got the better of the judge, and, rising, she went to the wallcupboard and took from it a bottle containing brown fluid and plainlylabelled, "Cholera Mixture. Poison. " Pouring a generous dose into aglass, she diluted it with water and was returning to the bed whenKatharine caught her hand to stay it, crying:

"Why, Susanna! How dare you? That's marked poison!"

The widow shook the girl's hand off, calmly replying:

"My suz! I guess I know what I'm about. That 'cholera mixture' 's onethe old doctor's own prescriptions, an' I've give more of it to morefolks 'an you could shake a stick at. It's marked 'poison' so's to keepchildern like you from meddlin' with it. A dose of it won't hurt nobody, an' if his malady is the sort I cal'late, I'm treatin' him like the GoodSamaritan would on the Sabbath Day. I've made it a powerful dose, an' I'low it'll settle his hash one way or other. But I hate to touch him. Icertainly do. "

A last faint moan issued from the sufferer, and his eyes turned upon thegirl. He looked so wan and so forlorn that her own natural repugnanceleft her, and she caught the medicine-glass from Susanna to present itto the sick man's lips. He opened them and drank obediently, evensmacking his lips over the fiery mixture, and Kate, having finished hertask, hastily withdrew to the outer room. 

But what had come over the Widow Sprigg? Her whole manner had changed. Fear seemed to have left her and a stern determination taken its place. Katharine could only observe, wondering, as the mistress of the cottagecaught up a pail, and going to the well drew it full several times, throwing out all but the last pailful, which she brought back into thehouse and set on a table in the bedroom. Beside it she placed a dipper, and observed:

"That water's all right. Moses, he had the well cleaned out for me onlylast month. We always do do it twicet a year, lest somebody comes alongan' drinks it stale. More'n that, the well's fed by a spring, runnin' inan' out, so really don't need any cleanin', but--"

Such solicitude on account of that detested tramp! It was amazing. Yether next procedure was even more so. Going up-stairs, she looked thatthe window was shut, and the nail, its only fastening, put in above thelower sash. Anybody inside could have opened it, of course, but that didnot occur to her. Each of the windows was thus treated, and, beckoningto Katharine, she led the way out-doors. The door was locked on theoutside and Susanna started homeward. She was no longer a weary or asad-faced woman. She was alert, silent, but unmistakably cheerful. 

Kate kept close pace with the now swift steps of the housekeeper, andfinally ventured to ask: "Who is he?"

"We may not all hope to be constables, but some of us is constableswithout ever runnin' for office! Well, well, well! I shouldn't besurprised if the end o' the world happens along now, any time, " saidSusanna, irrelevantly, and fell into such a brown study that Katy darednot interrupt her, and the rest of the way home was passed in silence. 

The deacon was waiting restlessly. He had not liked to desert his postand leave the disabled Moses alone in the house. Neither had he liked tolose his Sunday afternoon nap, well-earned refreshment of a diligentman. One other thing he had not liked: Moses' flat refusal to discusstheir employer's affairs. This had led to other controversies, and twodisgruntled men were ready to greet the tardy wanderers. 

"Hm-m. Thought you never was a-comin' back. That's all the sense a sillywoman has; let her get off grounds an' she don't know when to step on to'em again. The deacon, he's been purty patient, but--I guess we'll bebetter friends if we part for a spell now, " was Moses' greeting; and, instead of resenting it, Susanna said never a word. 

In silence she brought him his cup of beef tea. In silence she went outand fed the poultry; came in and gave Sir Philip his bowl of milk andPunch his plate of scraps. She had long since taken the feeding of bothanimals upon herself, declaring, with some show of truth, that they didnot dare "muss around" for her as they did for Eunice or Kate. 

Till it was supper-time she sat in absolute silence beside thesitting-room window, her eyes fixed upon vacancy, and an expression ofgreat perplexity. 

Katharine bore this as long as she could, then stole softly up to thehired man's room, careless whether he were asleep or not. She had notbeen bidden to secrecy, and, finding him awake, she poured out the storyof the afternoon so fast that her words fairly tripped each other up. Then Moses made her go back and tell it all over again, and when she hadfinished, exclaimed:

"Beats thunder! A silly woman! An' me, a man! Bedrid here, like an oldblock of wood, an' her--She thinks she's arrested somebody, Susannadoes! She thinks she's made herself into a constable, does she? Turnedher house into a jail--an' forgot to fasten the winders outside! Ho! Ho!Silly women!"

The disappointed old fellow got as much enjoyment as he could out of thesituation, and was more than delighted by thought of a tramp's shoessmirching the log-cabin quilt. It served the widow right, he maintained, because she had wasted so much labor on the thing. "Bought good newMerrimac print, she did, an' then set there o' nights asnip-snip-snippin' it up into little scraps an' sewin' 'em togetheragain. If a woman'll do that, it's proof what sort o' brains she's got. "Then, with sudden energy, he advised: "Don't you never let her set you asewin' patchwork, Kitty Keehoty. It's all on a piece with knittin'mittens for the Hottentots--a waste of time. A waste o' sinful time, Imean a sinful waste of--Oh, hum!"

She waited till he had cooled off from his own vexation, and then asked:

"Uncle Moses, will you tell me all about Montgomery's father?"

If she had surprised him before she startled him now. Flashing his keenold eyes upon her, he asked in return:

"Why do you want to know? Who egged you on to say that?"

"Nobody. Why, surely, nobody at all. But it seems so queer that nonetalk of him, yet of his mother speak so often and so lovingly. AuntEunice says she was a Marsden lady, a farmer's daughter, and 'as lovelyas a flower. ' Even Madam, who didn't like her at first, grew to be fondof her and to call her 'my sweet daughter. ' But when I asked Monty ofhis father, and had told him all about mine, about everything, about thesecond Mrs. John, the Snowballs, and all--he just said: 'I guess I'll gohunt old Whitey, ' and off he went, without saying 'excuse me. ' His facewas as red as red, and there came a queer look in his eyes as if--as ifhe was ashamed. Was his father a wicked man, Uncle Moses?"

Quite diverted by this time from his own vexations, the hired man laysilently thinking for a moment. Then he said:

"Well, little Kitty Keehoty, I hain't seen that your warm heart gets anycolder toward folks when they get into trouble 'an when they don't. Thattramp, now, that stole your victuals--Oh, I know! I did know last night, though you didn't know that I knowed--"

"'I saw Esau kissing Kate, Esau saw that I saw, '" quoted this otherKate, in laughing interruption. 

Moses laughed, too, as he was glad to do. He had had enough of gloom andgrumble for that sweet Lord's Day, now so near its close. And though thestory he was going to tell was anything but a bright one, he meant totell it in such wise that his young listener should be the tenderer andmore compassionate because of hearing it. 

"Well, Keehoty, it's ruther a long yarn. That is, it goes a good wayback, clean to the old Squire's time--no such a Squire as Pettijohn, forename James, mind ye--but a good, high-sprung, old-fashionedgentleman; with high-up English blood in his veins, an' a reg'larEnglish temper to balance the blood. Never did a dirty trick in his lifenor an unjust one--except to his own and only son. That was Monty'sfather, poor little stutterin' shaver! Well, along of his late years theold Squire had bad feelin's in his head, suffered terr'ble agony, an'hardly knowed what he did do or say. He got a notion that he was goin'to be robbed, an' used to carry 'round with him a cur'ous old box thatfolks said held his bonds an' money an' the old family jewels that hadbeen brought over from England a hunderd years afore. If he wenta-ridin'--an' he was the splendidest horseman ever seen in theseparts--he'd have the thing on the saddle afore him. If he druv, 'twouldbe in the box o' the carriage-seat. Nobody ever seen the inside thatbox, an' 'twas 'lowed there wasn't none could open it, except him an'the Madam. "

"Oh!" gasped Katharine, leaning forward, breathlessly intent. Naturallysuch close attention flattered the narrator, who went on with renewedearnestness:

"The old Squire an' his son didn't hit it off together very well. Neverdid from the time Verplanck, 'Planck he was called for short, was born. He was a good deal like Monty is, only more oneasy--if anybody could be;an' from the time he could toddle he was hand in glove with JimPettijohn's little tacker, Nate. Nate, he wasn't so smart as some folks. Not a fool, uther, an' consid'able better'n half-witted, butqueer--queer. He just worshipped Planck Sturtevant, an' where you seeone you see t'other, sure. Well, they growed up, an' Planck got married. That seemed to 'bout break Nate's heart, an' he got queerer an' queerer. Old Squire got queerer, too. Nothin' Verplanck could do or say was rightin his father's eyes; an' though he managed to work the farm fairlywell, he never made any money off it, an' that made the old man mad. Planck, he bore it patient for a spell, 'cause his wife--she that wasElizabeth Morton from up-mountain--thought the world an' all of the oldfolks an' they o' her. She'd been raised on a farm an' could an' didturn her hand to every sort o' work, but 'twasn't no use. She lovedthem, but she loved her husband better; an', one night, after there'dbeen more hard talk 'an common 'twixt the Squire an' Verplanck, therewas three folks missin' from Marsden township. They was somethin' elsemissin', too, an' that was the queer brass bound box with all theSquire's money an' vallybles. The hired man told 'bout the box, elsenobody might ever have heard that part. He was carryin' in the day'swood next mornin' an' overheard the Squire an' the Madam talkin' 'boutit; him callin' his son a 'thief, ' an' forbiddin' his name ever to bespoke in that house again. She declarin' that no child of them twohonest people could ever be a thief. Hot an' heavy they had it, thoughnobody had ever heard them two quarrel afore. An' right on top of thatstalks in Jim Pettijohn--him that's a sort o' Squire, a justice of thepeace, now--an' demands his son. He'd let the feller grow up withoutgood trainin' or lookin' after of any kind, though 'twas needed badenough. All Nate did know, or the little he knowed, was badness an'deviltry. Why, he used to go with your own pa, Johnny, consid'able, an''peared to like him almost as well as he did Verplanck, an' many's thetime I've had the three on my hands a-fishin'. But Johnny didn't tacklemuch to ary one them other boys. He was all for trompin' 'round byhimself, drawin' pictur's on whatever come handy, or lyin' under thetrees a-dreamin' the summer days through. In the winter he'd dream aforethe wood fire just the same idle way, an' finally he dreamed himself outo' Marsden an' run away to be an artist. Eunice, she was set an'determined he should be a minister, else maybe 'twouldn't never ha'turned out as it did. But Johnny was good, good clean through to thecore, parson or artist or what not; an' 'twasn't o' him I set out totell. An' I must hurry up, anyway, 'cause Susanna she'll be in purtysoon, an' that'll end all our nice time. "

"Oh, Uncle Moses! I like Susanna better to-day than I ever did before. She showed me the real inside of herself, and it isn't half as crusty asthe outside. "

"Huh! What'd she do to manage that? She seems powerful still an'sot-lookin' sence she come back from inspectin' her 'prope'ty. ' By theway, did you happen to notice whuther the slat top to that cistern o'hers was over the manhole? Out in the open shed, or lean-to? 'Causeshe's a great notion of leavin' it off to 'air'--as if a cistern thathasn't had no water in it for fifteen twenty years wasn't dry as apipe-stem a'ready or needed 'airin''! Gen'ally, after she's been outthere I take a look 'round myself. I wouldn't admire to have anything, even a tramp, fall down that cistern, though it might not hurt 'em much, 'cause it's shallower 'n it's broad. A real good 'system, ' I 'low, evenif that everlastin' Sprigg did build it. But what's the inside o'Susanna 't you saw an' liked?"

"She showed me her baby's things, an' looked as sad as if it had diedonly yesterday. But she showed me, too, her shroud--her _shroud_! Justthink of it, Uncle Moses! And that was horrible. "

"Pooh! That's nothin'. Lots of women has 'em laid by. Same's somefool-men has a coffin built an' kep' handy. As for me, I'm goin' toworry 'bout things only up till the day o' my death, an' not a minutebeyond. But, I was tellin' of Verplanck Sturtevant, an' must finish thejob. Squire, he had always given the cold shoulder to Jim, an' despisedhim out an' out. Jim was crafty an' underhand, Squire was open an' aboveboard--an' them two kinds don't mix. Still, Jim had been able to get hisclaw on the Squire's meat, so to speak; that is, he'd made moneyhimself, lawin' an' grindin' the face of them worse off 'an he was, an'the Squire needin' ready cash, to make some improvements he'd better ha'let alone, Jim advanced it an' Squire give a mortgage. That was thebeginnin', an' now, they say, Pettijohn owns about every acre of the oldSturtevant property, an' could turn the Madam out any day. Yet, somehow, he dassent. Indeed, I'd like to see the man could walk straight up tothat old lady an' say: 'Your house is mine. Please to get out. ' Outshe'd go at the first word; head up, back straight as one her own hallchairs, but a look in her eye that that man wouldn't forget in hislifetime. Verplanck, he was of the same sort--prouder'n Lucifer; an'even if she'd knowed where to send for him his mother would ha'understood 'twouldn't done a mite o' good. But she didn't send. Sheobeyed her husband to the last say-so. An' he didn't live long afterthat, anyway. Elizabeth, she come back, bringin' Monty with her; buther own folks tell as how there was never a thing said betwixt even themtwo, except Elizabeth sayin': 'I've come home, Mother Sturtevant, tobring your grandson to the old place. I haven't long to live; butVerplanck will never come till he has made a fortune and redeemedeverything. Let us not talk of him. ' They never did. Where he was orhow, his old mother could only guess. Then Elizabeth died and there wasjust them two--Madam an' Montgomery--left in the Mansion. Every year shelet Jim Pettijohn get a tighter clutch on the property, till, as I tellye, he prob'ly owns all. 

"That's all of Monty's father. 'Twas ten years or more ago whenElizabeth fetched him; why, my sake! it must be full twelve or up'ards, but time does fly so I forget. I never believed Verplanck stole a thing. I misdoubt if the box ever was took. The Squire bein' queer might ha'hid it somewheres, more'n likely. But there's them that does believe, an' I hear the Madam's amongst 'em. She's searched the Mansion from A toIzzard, knowin' every crane an' cranny of it, an' found nothin'. Sothat's why Monty's face got red when you asked about his father. Marsden's like every other village, full o' gossip, an' what hisgrandmother has tried to keep from him hearin' there's been plenty loosetongues to let slip. More'n once I've seen the poor little shaver sitbroodin' an' solemn as if his heart was breakin', an' I've fancied hewas thinkin' 'bout his pa. But he ain't one the broodin' kind, thanksbe; an' the very next thing I knowed he'd be up to some mischief orother, lively as a cricket. But don't you ever let on what I've told ye, 'less he speaks of it himself. I'm glad you're good friends, an' likelyenough he'll out with the hull business an' all he's thought an' feltabout it. If ever he does, Kitty Keehoty, you remember that it's awoman's part--such women as Eunice an' the Madam an' her that wasElizabeth Morton--to comfort an' cheer them 'at are downcast. Though Ineedn't caution ye, I guess, sence I found out some time ago that you'vegot a power o' sympathy in your fly-about little body. Hm-m. I've 'mosttalked the legs off the iron pot, hain't I? It's time to quit, an'--hark! Them's wheels! They're drivin' in here. They're on ourgravel, sure. Look out the winder, child, an' see who 'tis. I'm most tootuckered out for more comp'ny to-night. The deacon, he's a good man, buthe dreadful fatiguin'. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

REUBEN SMITH, ACCESSORY

The wheels belonged to Squire Pettijohn's buggy, in which were seatedAunt Eunice and himself. This was a combination which, as Katy relatedit from the window, greatly astonished Moses. Yet there was nothingsurprising in the fact, after all. The gentleman had chanced to beup-mountain, calling at the same house where Miss Maitland was visiting, and had offered to take her home, hearing her say that she was anxiousto be there early on the morrow. 

She had not enjoyed her ride, yet blamed herself for her aversion to aneighbor who, if not a gentleman, had learned sufficient good manners toconduct himself as nearly such. The worst annoyance he had given her wasby continual and roundabout references to what had happened in theforest. The more she evaded his questions the more direct they became, till she was almost forced to tell everything or be imputed a liar. 

As they turned into the village street he made a final effort forenlightenment, saying:

"You must know, Miss Maitland, "--he did not call her "Eunice" to herface as he had done behind her back to Susanna, --"you must know that inkeeping this treasure, or whatever was found in your woods, a secretfrom others, you are injuring somebody. They say you are conniving atthe escape of a tramp, even. A tramp! One of those dangerous creatureswhich infest our State, but have not before invaded Marsden. I flattermyself that I--that I--have so far prevented their coming, and I amcertainly making it my business now to unearth this one who, I am told, lurks principally in your forest. You are a large-hearted, generouslady, Miss Maitland; one who is an honor to her township and whom I amproud to call a neighbor--"

"Indeed? I thank you, " said Aunt Eunice, stiffly. 

Squire Pettijohn ignored the interruption. He meant to make the most ofthis unlooked-for chance to satisfy his curiosity and hisself-importance, and continued as if she had not spoken:

"But who, I fear, sometimes lets her heart run away with her head. Inpitying the individual, namely, the tramp in present question, youshould also remember that you are endangering the community. "

"Nonsense. But may I ask, in turn, from whom you gained your informationthat I protected the tramp?"

"Hm-m--Er--Ah! I believe it was Mrs. Turner who said that you said you'hoped if any poor hungry wretch strayed into this village of plenty hewould get enough to eat for once. ' That you 'had always regretted we hadno really poor people in Marsden, where they could be cared for, and solessen the number of starving persons elsewhere. ' Mrs. Turner made apersonal application of the remark, and suggested that if it had been_your_ pies which had been purloined you might feel differently. "

Eunice laughed as gaily as a girl, and exclaimed:

"So it has grown to be 'pies, ' has it? The last time I heard the mattermentioned it was one possible pie, and Robert, as well as a tramp, hadbeen in the locality where they were set to cool. Besides, it would bean excellent thing if they had all been taken. Mrs. Turner is a nicewoman, but she can't make pastry fit to eat, as witness her husband'sdyspepsia. Monty says they have pie at the Turners three times a day, and it's a paradise for hungry small visitors who can digest anything. Indeed, I am surprised to learn I gave my neighbor offence on this samepie subject. We talked for some time over it and she fell into my ideathat fruit for dessert would suit Mr. Turner far better than pastry, andsave her a world of trouble. It would also diminish the number of thechildren's playmate 'droppers-in' at meal-times. Yes, I am surprised. "

They had come within sight of The Maples, and Squire Pettijohn had, withapparent carelessness, let back the top of the buggy so that any whocared might observe him riding with the mistress of that fine old estateand the present centre or heroine of so much mystery. This was anunusual thing to do, for letting carriage-tops back is apt to crack theleather, and "Jim" Pettijohn cracked nothing which could be preserved. Eunice comprehended and smiled quietly in her corner of the seat, talking at length as she had done to stave off any further prying intoher affairs. 

Even yet she was not to be let free. Said the gentleman, with apreliminary cough:

"I do hope and trust, dear Miss Maitland, that you will forego amistaken expression of sympathy, should an appeal be made to you, andassist me as a magistrate to nip this evil in the bud. In other words, to send this vagrant to the lockup at the earliest possible moment. As Iobserved, you owe it to your community to protect it, not endanger it. "

Eunice turned her glowing eyes upon him. "And I owe to the Great Father, who has given us this day, to be good to every child of His, howeverhumble. If the tramp comes to my door he shall be fed. If he needsshelter I will shelter him. If he needs clothing I will clothe him. Why, look, man, look!" spreading her hand wide to point out the lovelysurroundings: "Should anybody come into all this and go away not thebetter for it? How do we know what chance has brought this strangerhither? Or what and where his life began? Maybe, in just some suchfavored country village; and once, at least, he was--somebody's son. "

The tenderness of her compassionate tone but hardened the other'spurpose. 

"Huh! If he were my _own_ son, even, I would have the law on him to thefullest extremity!" he answered, harshly; and Eunice shivered, remembering, as he seemed to have forgotten, that poor son of his whohad gone astray and might be roaming the world then, as was this unknownwho had so stirred the lawyer's wrath. 

Baffled yet persistent, as he helped her alight at her own threshold, the Squire put one more sudden question:

"But, after all, there was something--_something_--found in your woodsthat day, wasn't there?"

It was not even in Eunice's patience to endure thus much. Caughtunawares, she burst out, indignantly:

"Yes, there was something found, but it does not concern anybody to knowwhat. Thank you for your courtesy, and--good evening. "

The lawyer drove homeward satisfied. She had admitted "the find. " Hewould now proceed to unearth it. Incidentally, he would unearth thetramp, but that was, in his estimation, a secondary matter. 

Eunice reëntered her home, glad to be there, but as Susanna saw at firstgreeting, "all stirred up and upsot. " She would not allow herself totalk till she had recovered her composure. She even promptly, thoughaffectionately, dismissed Katharine to her bed, reminding her that themorrow brought school again and she must be awake early. 

The little girl was disappointed. She had longed for a long, cosy talkwith her guardian over so many, many things. Not least of all concerningthe brilliant scheme which had occurred to her and Monty that day on thehay. Nor did it please her any too well to lie and listen to the voicesof Eunice and Susanna, murmuring on and on indefinitely, in thesitting-room below. Commonly the housekeeper went early to sleep onSunday nights, for it was her habit to rise before daybreak and setabout her Monday washing. To-night the great clock struck eleven, actually eleven, before this conference broke up; only to be resumed atintervals during the next morning, whenever the pair were alone. 

However, Katharine had other matters on hand so absorbing that even themysteries of tramp and brass bound box sank out of mind. She was off toschool a half-hour before time, and strangely enough Montgomery wasequally prompt. Together they repaired to the wooden bench under thebeech-tree, and while the lad suggested things to be written down, Katewrote them rapidly on little slips of paper, which suspiciouslyresembled a leaf from a copy-book. 

Other scholars came along and stared, wondering what had sent thisusually tardy boy so far in advance of the bell. Little girls tittered. Phrony Walker tossed her braid flippantly over her shoulder, casuallydisplaying a new hair ribbon with which she meant to impress the citygirl who wore and needed none. Sophronia's hair did not kink and curl asKatharine's did, but it was "a hunderd times as long and a great dealprettier colored. " Kate had said so herself, yet here was she who was sogenerously admiring, almost covetous, calmly unobservant of braid, ribbon, and all. 

Martha and Mary Turner came, swinging their lunch-basket between them, delightfully conscious that in its depths were stored three appleturnovers, one for each of them and one for Kitty Keehoty, who was neverallowed to carry pie to school. With a child's fondness for theindigestible, she had once declared that Mrs. Turner's turnovers were"sim-ply de-lic-ious, " and they had teased their mother ever since tomake one for their new friend. But they stopped short at sight of thelight and dark head so close together over something they did not knowabout, and when Martha drew nearer and informed the dark-hairedscribbler that she had "brought it, " Kate merely nodded her head andcontinued scribbling. 

Bob and Ned arrived, tackle over shoulder, intent upon playing hookey atafternoon session, and disgusted that Monty was so little excited bytheir grimacing pantomime, as they demonstrated how they would escape tothe woods and invited his company. Then they tried ridicule, calling"girl-boy, girl-boy, " as loudly as they dared, with Katharine's scornfulglances upon them. Monty grew fiery red and tossed his blond head as ifshaking an obnoxious insect from it, but did not cease to scratch it forideas, which he whispered to his companion as fast as he dug them out. 

Even when the teacher came and Kate sprang to her feet to bid him heralways courteously ready "Good morning, " also dragging Montgomery to hisown feet as a reminder of what was correct, that excited, exaltedexpression left neither young face. 

Matters continued thus all through school. Monty was worse than ordinaryin the matter of lessons, and that was saying much. Katharine, havinghad better advantages, stood far in advance of her class, so had no needto study, and kept her slips of paper in her book all the time she satat her desk. She was not a rapid writer and she certainly had a deal ofwriting to do. At recess the before-school performance was repeated; andwhen the truants, Bob and Ned, disappeared in the direction of the"Eddy" after "noonin', " Monty failed to send one regretful glancethither. He was more occupied in watching the face of the clock thananything else, and as soon as dismissal-bell rang, darted from theschoolroom as if propelled by a gun. Just then, too, the first warningnotes of Reuben Smith's horn came floating through the trees and downthe street, and thereafter all that was seen of the boy was a pair ofheels vanishing in air. 

"Why, what in the world ails Monty? And say, Katy, didn't you like yourturnover?" asked Martha Turner, drawing near to her heroine and showingthat she felt somewhat aggrieved. 

"Oh, Monty's all right. He--Don't you worry. You'll all know sometime. And didn't I eat it?"

"Yes. You ate it fast enough, but you didn't say whether you liked it ornot. I think ma, she--"

"Oh, you dear thing! Of course I liked it; and please make my regards toyour mother and tell her that I thank her very much. It was the nicestturnover I ever had, and--and it was the first one. "

To an older mind this might not have been so convincing an argument, butit satisfied Martha. She considered that Katharine Maitland had the"perfectly sweetest manner of any girl in the world, " and was dailytrying to improve her own by the pattern set. "Make my regards. " She hadnever heard that phrase before, but it impressed her as very stately and"Miss Eunicey, " so put it away in her memory for future use. She wasfurther delighted by Katharine's begging her and Mary to walk home withher, as far as they went her way, for she had something to talk overwith them. 

But when she revealed this "something" it proved not so much after all. She merely inquired exactly how many boys and girls there were in theirschool and out of it. "I want to get the name of every single child thatisn't more than sixteen years old. As much younger as you please, butolder than that would be grown-ups. At least, they would be inBaltimore. "

That settled it. Whatever was done "in Baltimore" seemed to these youngprovincials as the acme of correctness; little knowing that to a widerworld even "Baltimore" was also provincial. 

But it was easy enough to "count noses, " as Mary phrased it, and thelist of names Katharine had already prepared swelled considerably. Shewrote as she walked, the cover of her book her desk, and with suchhaste that the writing was almost illegible. However, a trifle of thatsort could be overcome. 

"No, Mattie, I know it isn't very plain, but I guess I'll make it out. Let's hurry. Reuben Smith's blowing his go-away horn, and I want tosee--Oh, yes! There he is! The stage-driver keeps blowing every littlewhile, yet he keeps talking, too, so I know it's all right! Oh, justfancy! It's going to be perfectly, perfectly splendid! Oh, you dear, dear things!"

Katharine's playmates were accustomed to being caught up and huggedwhenever anything pleased her more than common, and she was usually asfree in explaining her delight as in expressing it physically. But sheexplained nothing now. She merely squeezed their hands, and stared atMr. Smith still arguing with Montgomery, till suddenly looking aroundshe saw their puzzled faces. 

"Never mind me, girls. I can't tell yet, not just yet, because it's abeautiful secret. But you'll all know right soon. You're going to be init, too; we're all going to be in it! Oh, the happy old man! Oh, thefun! Oh, the queer crazy decorations! I believe _I'm_ just too happy tolive! But the stage is going and I must run to Monty. Good-by. Be sureto be at school to-morrow. Then you'll know. "

Reuben Smith mounted to his high seat, blew a farewell blast on hisancient horn, and drove away out of the village, while Montgomery fairlytumbled over himself in his haste to meet Katharine, who greeted himwith the question:

"Well, will he do it?"

"Y-y-y-ye-es!" gasped the breathless lad, and sat down on the edge ofthe path to recover. 

For once careless of dust, Kate dropped down beside him and countedquestions off upon her fingers so fast that Monty could only nod hishead in acquiescence. Then she drew a small chain purse from her blousepocket, where it had been carefully pinned ever since she left home inthe morning. From this she took a pile of new one-dollar bills--ten inall--and laid them one by one on Montgomery's outstretched palms. It wasthe largest amount of money Kate had ever owned, it was almost thelargest the boy had ever seen. A feeling like awe stole upon him and hewhispered, --without a stutter, --"S'pose he should lose it!"

"That's a good boy. Monty, you're improving so fast, you'll beat thetime I set for you to conquer in. Have you said your piece to-day? And, of course he won't lose it. Men don't lose things. Except Uncle Moseshis 'specs' and the deacon his two-pronged fork, that's never in thehay-mow when he wants it there. Stage-drivers don't lose, anyway, andI'm glad it's you, not I, who have to deal with him. He doesn't like memuch. I _was_ saucy when I came. I don't think I am quite, not quite sosaucy spoken as I was when I came. Do you, Monty?"

"O-o-oh, not n-n-nigh!" he easily replied, never having thought at allabout it. He was still entranced with the possession, even temporary, ofsuch vast wealth as he was now bestowing in an old and hitherto uselesspurse. The crisp new bills. How fat they made it! How utterly andentirely delightful was this girl from the outside world who had suchwonderful ideas and the ability to carry them out!

Then the purse was put away in the innermost of all his many innerpockets, and around his blouse, beneath his jacket, Monty fastened aleather strap. Buckling this so tight he could hardly breathe, andfastening the coat over all, he slapped his chest admiringly, andvaliantly declared:

"A-a-anybody get that a-a-away from me'll have to k-k-kill mef-f-first!"

Katy jumped up. "Let's go ask Aunt Eunice about the pumpkins!"

In an instant they were off down the street, and some, looking out ofwindow as they raced past, remarked:

"There they go again, Sturtevant and Maitland, each generation as closefriends as the other. But chummy as they've been ever since Johnny'sgirl came to Marsden, there's something more than common on the carpetnow. "

There certainly was. They burst in upon Miss Maitland's solitude, forgetful to tap at door as they both knew they should, andsimultaneously besought the startled lady:

"Please, Aunt Eunice, may we have all the pumpkins in the southcorn-field?"

At least, that was what Katharine said. Monty's request was profferedstammeringly but not less earnestly, and he said "punkins" with noattempt at correctness of speech. 

"Children! What a pair of noisy creatures you are! Where have you comefrom? You are late if just from school. And, Montgomery, does yourgrandmother know that you are here?"

"N-n-no, Aunt E-E-E-Eunice. Nev' mind her. She w-w-won't care. C-c-c-canwe?"

"I--don't think I quite understand. Did you ask me for a pumpkin? Pleaserepeat. "

"'A pumpkin'--that's one; no, indeed!" said Katy, scornfully. "We wantthe whole field full of them. We sha'n't hurt them any, Monty says, andhe knows 'bout country things better than I do. " Here she bestowed suchan approving smile upon her comrade that he flushed and smiledbeatifically. There were so few, so very few, things in which he couldreally excel this superior city creature, yet she was so generous as toperceive them even before he did himself. 

Just then Susanna came in greatly flurried, and, catching Eunice's arm, tried to draw her hastily out of the room. Miss Maitland herself hadswiftly caught her housemate's perturbation. Indeed, she had alreadybeen perturbed when the children intruded upon her, and had, apparently, now forgotten them. 

Katharine saw their opportunity slipping from them, and opportunity wassomething that girl never wasted for want of readiness to seize it. Running after the departing lady, she clasped her skirt and stayed herlong enough to put her question once more:

"May we, aunty? Oh, please, before you go, say--yes!"

"Yes. Why, of course, yes, yes, " returned the lady, all unheeding untowhat she had given her consent. 

But she was to learn. Ah, yes! She was to learn in good time. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

WHAT THE MOON SAW IN THE CORN-FIELD

October had now nearly gone, and there was a chill in the air whichwould, under ordinary circumstances, have made both Eunice and Susannapause before setting off into the woods at that hour in the afternoon. Certainly they would not have gone without wraps and shawls galore, butneither paused now. As swiftly, almost as secretly, as two guiltyschoolgirls would have started upon some surreptitious adventure, theyleft the house by the back door and passed through the back garden. Fromthence they struck into the path to the woodland and hurried forward. Between strides the widow managed to interject a few explanatorysentences. 

"I got the wash off the line. " Pause. "An' I got oneasy. " Another pause. Resuming: "I felt druv to go out there, alone even, an' see. What yousaid about starvin' him worked on me, dreadful. I took a basket o'victuals. Bad as he is--Oh, my suz!"

"Walk slower, Susanna. We shall be overdone if we keep this pace. Whatthen?" asked Miss Maitland. 

"Well, I went. I run 'most all the way. I got there--an' he wasn't. Hewasn't at all!"

"Do you mean that he had left the cottage?"

"My suz! I should think he has. He's left, an' my log-cabin quilt'sleft, an' my best feather tick, an' pillows, an' a pair blankets--thatkitchen-bedroom bedstead's stripped as clean as 'twas the day it wasborn--I mean, sot up. Now--what do you think of that?"

"I think--Oh, what a miserable business it all is! I am so worried Icannot sleep. Right and wrong, right and wrong, like the pendulum of theclock the two sides of the matter swing in my mind till I'mhalf-distracted. I hardly know what I am doing or saying, I am soanxious to do the best for everybody, yet what is best? I have a fearthat those children asked me something absurd a few minutes ago, and Isaid 'yes' to them without comprehending. I think they said 'a field ofpumpkins. ' What could they want with a field--_a field_--of pumpkins?"

"Didn't want 'em, of course. Some their silliness. Don't worry. What'spunkins, anyhow, compared with that log-cabin quilt?"

"Little, to be sure. And I hope it isn't really lost. Are you certainthat the poor wretch is he you said?"

"As sure as I draw my breath, " averred Susanna, solemnly. 

"Then Squire Pettijohn must never know, " said Eunice, with equalsolemnity. 

After that they hurried silently onward again, reckless of the fact thatthey had left a bedridden man alone in the house, for although thedeacon was still about his evening chores, such kept him wholly outside. As for Katharine, she might or might not be on hand if Moses summonedher. Evidently she and her boy-chum had some fine scheme on hand andwere away to put it in train, since they had both been more thancommonly excited and eager. 

Never mind. There are times in life when its commonplace affairs mustyield to the extraordinary. These two quiet householders had come tosuch a time on that late October day. 

They had walked almost as far as Susanna's cottage when Eunice paused, and held her companion also back, as she pointed through the darkeningwood to a wild-looking creature prowling among the trees. He wasevidently looking for something. His search so earnest and troubled thatthe caution he had heretofore displayed had deserted him. Stooping, poking among the leaves and bracken, rising, moving toward another tree, stooping again--repeating endlessly this same proceeding, the watcherssoon tired of simply observing him. 

"Stay here, Susanna. You were right. It is he. I will go and speak tohim. "

"Alone? Oh, Eunice, don't! Let the old quilt go! I wish I hadn't toldye. Besides, who'd ever want to sleep under it after he'd touched it?"

But though she caught at her mistress's hand to prevent suchfoolhardiness, Susanna could not stop her. She was walking swiftlytoward the searcher and almost noiselessly, and had come up to himbefore he was aware. When she was close at his side, so close that herfirm fingers rested on his ragged shoulder, he discovered her andstarted away. But she held him quiet, more by her will than her grasp, while, looking steadily into his eyes, she spoke his name, gently, kindly, as one who welcomes a long absent friend:

"Nathan! Why, Nathan! How glad I am to see you!"

The tramp no longer struggled to free himself, but as if spellbound byher gaze returned it in silence. Gradually there stole over his haggardfeatures the light of recognition, and, instead of remembering laterevents, his mind reverted to his boyhood. 

"Be you Miss Eunice? But--I hain't got my lesson. "

Again he would have slunk away expecting a reprimand; yet none came. Quite to the contrary, Miss Maitland's own face brightened and shelaughed, answering:

"Never mind the lesson, laddie. We're not little boy and young womanto-day, Sunday scholar and Sunday teacher. We're just two old friendswell met, with other things to learn besides printed lessons. What haveyou lost? Can I help you find it?"

"A box. His'n. I fetched it safe so fur--an' now--now--I can't see itnowhere. Planck'll frown an' make me feel mean. I promised--"

There a pitiful stupidity took the place of the intelligent recognitionhe had momentarily displayed, and he resumed that fruitless search underthe trees. 

"Wait, Nathan. Maybe I know. Maybe I can help you. The box was an old, old box. It was of mahogany, heavy, bound with brass, with neither keynor keyhole, and only those who had been shown how could open it. Isthat the one, Nathan?"

"Yes, yes! It's all safe inside. He put it there--just when--just--"

With a sudden outburst of grief he began to weep. The great tears randown his dirty cheeks and streaked them. His breath came in greatblubbering sobs which he made no effort to check. 

Eunice Maitland also went back in spirit many years and saw before hernow, not the repellent vagrant, but a forlorn child who must becomforted. Without shrinking she clasped his vile hand in her dainty oneand turned him back toward Susanna's cottage. That good soul had nowdrawn near and was herself crying bitterly. Why--she could hardly haveexplained. Surely, not from any affection for Nathan Pettijohn, returnedrascal, nor from any sentimental memory of bygone years, such as hermistress's; but just naturally, in sympathy with two other tear-wetfaces. She found the tears a relief. Indeed, they all appeared to do so, and began to retrace the way to the woodland cottage with swifter steps. The two women, because they were feeling the cold and now realizing whata foolish thing they had done in coming out unprotected from it. Thevagrant, because it was his nature to follow rather than lead. Arrivedthere, they found the door wide open and the furnishing sadlydisordered. Evidently, Nathan had rummaged the place thoroughly. 

The Widow Sprigg had long since dried her unaccountable tears, and wasfreshly indignant at the state of affairs. So soon as they were withindoors she turned upon the intruder, and demanded:

"What did you mean by such doin's as these, Nate Pettijohn? Ain't youashamed to destroy folkses prope'ty this way? Where's my log-cabinquilt? My pillows? All my things?"

The man paid no heed to her, but fixed a hungry gaze upon the basket shehad brought earlier in the afternoon, and Eunice interposed:

"Wait, Susanna. Let us feed him first, and hear his story afterward. "

With that she opened the basket and set fresh food before him, while, with that thoughtfulness which was so constantly belying her sharptongue, the cottage mistress went to the well and brought in a freshpail of water. Though not as ravenous as he had been that afternoon bythe riverside, he even now devoured, rather than ate, the sandwiches andcakes, swallowing them noisily and so rapidly that what the housekeeperhad supposed would be sufficient to last any one for at leasttwenty-four hours disappeared in less than as many minutes. 

"Well, my suz! If that don't beat the Dutch! I shouldn't think, if Ihadn't knowed better, 'at you'd seen a mouthful o' victuals sence youscooted out o' Marsden a dozen years ago! An' as for manners--why, ourpigs is better behaved. Water? Drink your fill, an' then, NatePettijohn, you walk right straight out to that wash-dish in the lean-toan' scrub yourself well. Of all the dirty creatur's--Why, what?"

The vagrant had been seized by a violent fit of coughing, so fierce thatit threatened hemorrhage; and Susanna's wrath died. 

"Consumption!" she whispered to Eunice, and shivered. It was ofconsumption "Spriggs, he" had died. 

The paroxysm passed and left its victim exhausted. With a longing forrest, he tottered out of the kitchen into the lean-to, but not to washas its owner had suggested. He went directly to the now uncoveredmanhole of the cistern and slowly descended a short ladder whichprotruded from it and had always hitherto hung upon the wall. The womenwatched him in astonishment, then Susanna hastily procured a candle, and, lighting it, held it above the opening. 

As she had herself once said, the cistern was as dry as possible, andwas in reality like a low-ceilinged little room, with the manhole forsky-light. Into this place the vagrant had tossed the missing bedding, and with his habit of hiding had bestowed himself upon it. In allprobability, he had rarely occupied so snug and comfortable, thoughpeculiar, a bedchamber. 

"My--s-u-z!" gasped the widow, and sat down on a wash-bench to recoverfrom her amazement. 

Miss Maitland said nothing, yet an expression of great satisfactionsettled upon her countenance, and, motioning her friend back into thekitchen, explained its cause. 

"Nathan himself has decided what should best be done with him. He isperfectly safe and comfortable in that cistern. It is warm andsufficiently aired. He will not be apt to build a fire, as you feared, especially if we see to it that he has enough to eat. Nobody will thinkof looking for him in such a place, even though, as he declared heshould, his father organizes a search for him. Unhappy father, if hedoes, and--poor, unhappy son. He looks very ill, and he certainly is nomore intelligent than when he went away. But he is evidently faithful toVerplanck Sturtevant, as he always was. It is he that has brought backand for safe-keeping, presumably, hidden the brass bound box thatKatharine found, and that has led to so many wild rumors. Do you notthink we would better leave him undisturbed for the present, until I cansecure better clothing for him? Also, can decide that awfulquestion--whether or not to tell Elinor the stolen box is found. It willbe like deliberately trying to break her heart over again if I give itto her and it is empty. Yet, it is not mine, and it rests on myconscience like an actual weight. Do advise me, Susanna. "

From which it appears that the widow's curiosity had already beensatisfied concerning the fabulous "find" in the Maitland forest, and shereadily assented to her companion's idea. 

"No, Eunice, we couldn't do better. Let him be. Poor wretch, he won'ttrouble nobody long, by the sound o' that cough. An' if Squire Pettijohnis mean enough an' onfeelin' enough to treat him like he vowed he wouldary tramp, 'even his own son, ' I guess we can let the Lord 'tend to_him_. He wouldn't know another day's peace, not if he's human; 'causeonce that mis'able creatur', no matter what he is now, was a baby--ababy in arms. But--my suz, Eunice! I've just figured it out! How can theSquire 'rest anybody? He ain't no constable. Nobody ain't a constablehere in Marsden. Ain't been none sence Isaac Brewster died, an' nobodywould take his place. 'Less I'm one, myself, as Moses said. "

At which she laughed heartily, then hastily added:

"But we must be gettin' home to oncet. I'll step up attic an' get acouple o' shawls to wrop 'round us, heads an' all. I do hope we shall bepervented from takin' cold temptin' Providence the way we have, at ourtime o' life. Nate, he won't stir no more to-night. He's too tuckeredout an' too well fed. Sleep's the best medicine for him, so we'll shutup quiet like an' start. But where in the world'll you get clothes, asyou said? Man's clothes, you an' me, old women without a man betwixt us, except Moses, an' it bein' kep' secret from him still. If you tell himhe'll tell the deacon, an' what the deacon knows belongs to the hullcommunity. "

"I'll find them, Susanna; I'll send an order for all he needs by themorning stage. "

"Tell Reub Smith! My suz! Might as well proclaim it from the churchsteeple!"

"No, indeed. I shall not tell him, but simply send an order by him whenhe goes to town in the morning. "

Then they hurried home, and Miss Maitland rested better that night thanshe had done since the children brought her the brass bound box from outthe forest. 

 * * * * *

Next morning Monty "hooked school. " Not that this was an extraordinarything to happen, although its purpose was mysterious. He did not seekeither woods or river, for nuts or fishes, but hung about thepost-office till Reuben Smith drove tooting down South Hill into thevillage street on his way outward toward the county town. The stage drewup with a jerk, Reuben stepped down with unusual liveliness, and behold!there were two patrons ready with orders to be executed. 

Miss Eunice and Montgomery Sturtevant. They faced each other in mutualsurprise. Each held a sealed letter in hand and each was in haste. Thelady spoke first: "Why, Monty! Is your grandmother trusting you to takecare of her business matters already? That's fine. "

"N-n-no, Aunt Eu-Eu-Eunice. I-I-I-I--" The afflicted lad had neverstammered worse nor seemed so uncomfortable. 

Puzzled, but too well-bred to pry into other people's affairs, MissMaitland finished her directions to the stage-driver and generalexpress agent for the village, and went home. Montgomery's relief ather departure made Reuben laugh, but he liked the lad and listened verypatiently to the almost endless details stammered at him. Then he mostcarefully, with an exaggerated caution indeed, bestowed the fat envelopewhich contained ten whole crisp new dollars where nobody but himselfwould be apt to look for it--not in the wallet with his othercommissions, but in his boot! This gave the whole transaction a touch ofthe romantic, and suggested possible "hold-ups" in a way to set Monty'seyes a-bulge. Then the stage rattled away to the north, and the day'smonotony settled upon Marsden village. 

There was much whispering that day in school, and a prompt departurefrom the building at close of the afternoon's session. It had beennoticeable, also, that at "nooning" every scholar, old or young, hadrepaired to the rear of the play-ground, out of hearing of the teacher. There they had grouped themselves about Katharine Maitland, withMontgomery Sturtevant as her supporter, and had listened breathlessly tosome matter she divulged. Only one sentence had reached the master'sears, as he tapped the bell for them to come in again to later lessons:

"Everybody don't forget a knife. And everybody'll get an invitationto-morrow. Then everybody will understand, and if everybody isn'tperfectly delighted, I shall be surprised. Teacher will have his, too;I'm workin' on it with nice red ink. "

That some exciting affair was on foot, and that he was to be included init was evident; and being himself not many years older than his "bigboys, " he was patiently indulgent over the many blunders at recitationswhich followed. 

Never had Marsden school children arrived at their respective homes soearly, nor so promptly availed themselves of parents' satisfaction inthis promptness. Books were bestowed in tidiness, lunch-baskets hung inplace, and in every house in the village there was simultaneouslypreferred the request:

"May I go out to play?"

Consent obtained--and what mother could refuse it to so deserving apetitioner?--there followed a stampede of youngsters toward EuniceMaitland's south corn-field. 

Late October brings early nightfall, and even playtime seems over withthe dusk, but that night there were many, many empty places at waitingsupper-tables, and many mothers' ears grew anxious listening for theclatter of young feet which came not. 

[Illustration: "BUT THE LATE RISING MOON LOOKED DOWN UPON A CURIOUSSCENE"]

But the late rising moon looked down upon a curious scene. Throughoutthat same south corn-field had been scattered hundreds of goldenpumpkins ripe for the harvest; and all among them, each with his or herallotted pile of the great fruit, was every truant youngster. Cornshocks had been overturned for the more comfortable seating of thetoilers, and knives gleamed in the moon-rays as the diligent fingersfashioned Jack-o'-lanterns sufficient in number, as Monty declared, to"l-l-light the w-w-wh-whole world!"

CHAPTER XX. 

UNINVITED GUESTS

Katharine escaped the chiding she deserved because, when she reënteredthe house, Miss Eunice was engaged with company and Susanna waspreparing a tray of refreshments to be served the guests. Montgomeryescaped because Madam supposed he had been at The Maples where so muchof his time was now passed. He went supperless to bed, but Katharine, most guilty of all delinquents, fared sumptuously upon a portion of thedainties from the housekeeper's "company tray. " The Turner trio ofculprits ate wedges of cold pumpkin pie, eaten standing by the kitchensink, and went to bed to dream that all the world was made of pumpkinswhich it was their destiny to consume before a general illuminationbegan. At least, that was what Martha dreamed, and, having roused theother pair to relate it to them, they were sleepy enough to believe theyhad dreamed it, too. 

Other children--But why prolong the story? Many of the pumpkin artistshad reason to remember that night for some time to come; yet not oneever admitted that they had not found their fun outweigh theirpunishment. 

Some days previous Katharine had put a very mild request to Aunt Eunice, in the words:

"Aunty, would you mind if I had a little Hallowe'en party? Out in thebarn, where it wouldn't be any trouble to anybody?"

And the lady, always glad to make her young charge happy, had replied:

"Why, no, dear. Certainly, you may have one if you wish. "

"Oh, thank you, thank you, you darling Aunty Eunice!" springing up tohug her guardian ecstatically. Then, with her young cheek against theolder one: "And would it be too much to ask--Deacon Meakin to--to stayaway that day?"

"Why, Katharine, that couldn't be. Besides giving him offence, how couldwe spare him?"

"Monty and I could do the chores. Bob Turner could milk. Bob's afirst-rate milker, Martha says so. "

"Well, well. Maybe it can be arranged. I'll see. "

"Because, Aunt Eunice, it's to be such a beautiful benefit to--Oh, Iforgot. But if he could stay at home just once; he's so what Widow calls'pernickity, ' and he says children ought to be born 'growed up. ' Theycan't be that, can they? So I do think, I just do think they might belet to have some nice times without folks scolding and acting hateful. "

"The deacon doesn't mean to be hateful, Katy. We'll see. "

Fortune favored the child as it so often did. After a particularlywearisome contest of wills between the original hired man and hissuccessor, the deacon resigned his position and left in a huff. Aneighboring youth was sent for to take his place, but, as far from beinga hindrance to Katharine's schemes, proved her very best ally. Montgomery knew William well, and his wheedling, if stammering, tonguesoon persuaded the young man that in furthering the success of the partyhe was furthering his employer's also. 

In due time every boy and girl in the township received a laboriouslywritten invitation, and all accepted, of course. This was understoodwithout the trouble of replies. 

Even the schoolmaster was not forgotten, though he waited until schoolwas dismissed before he opened his neatly folded bit of paper, and read:

 "The favor of your presence is requested at the Big Barn of Miss Eunice Maitland at The Maples, on the evening of October 31st, to a Hallowe'en Corkis. At seven o'clock by the church steeple. Please bring your teaspoon with you. 

 "Yours respectfully, "KATHARINE MAITLAND. "

This unique invitation was the joint production of Katharine andMontgomery. The first part was hers, recalled from wedding-cards oftenseen at her old home in the city; the latter part was due to Monty'sforethought. Katharine had never heard of a "corkis;" but, by way ofdabbling in politics through loiterings at the village store, the boyhad acquired some technical terms, and insisted that this was what bestbefitted their case. As he could not spell the word, and she couldn'tfind it in the dictionary, though she searched all the "Cor" columnsthrough, she adopted phonetic spelling with the above result. Also, since there was as much variety in "time" as there was in clocks, theguests were advised to regulate their arrivals by the biggest onevisible. As to the teaspoon clause--that was positively necessary. "Howcould a boy eat ice-cream without a spoon? And how could anybody, evenAunt Eunice, who had a trunk full of silver, lend a body spoons enoughto go around, admitting that one dared ask for them? For if everybodycame who was asked, and everybody certainly would since they hadn't beenpolite enough to send regrets (even before the cards were out), whatwould a body do, I should like to know?"

As there was altogether too much body in this argument for Montgomery heyielded the point and waited the great event with what patience hemight. Not so much patience was required, however, since there was muchlabor to accomplish. William hitched up the team, thoughtfully taking anopportunity when Miss Maitland had gone to pay a visit to the distantMansion, and brought the field full of Jack-o'-lanterns up to the barn;into which, carefully keeping the sound sides of the pumpkins toward thekitchen windows and Susanna's eyes, he conveyed them. Then the doorswere closed and the decorating began. 

"C-c-can't make 'em hang, " lamented Montgomery, after a few moments'unsuccessful effort. 

"Course not. That string's too light. Wait. I'll fetch something, " saidKatharine, as decorator in charge. Then she sped into the house andborrowed Susanna's clothes-line. 

"My clothes-line, child? What on earth for?"

"Oh, you'll see sometime. I sha'n't hurt it!" returned the eager girl, skipping away. 

The widow was glad to have "the children" out of the way for the timebeing. She, also, was planning a "surprise, " for Eunice had told her ofKatharine's "little Hallowe'en party, " and the good housekeeperdetermined that not a single young guest should return home after thatevent without carrying a report of a fine repast. 

As she said to Moses, when fixing him up for the day:

"It does seem good after all our worries lately to do somethin' justplain plumb foolish, like lettin' young ones have a nice time. Me an'Eunice, we have more on our minds 'an we let on to you, but I'm goin' toforget 'em. "

"Forgettin' your mind won't be no great job, nor loss nuther. Wouldn'tbe much matter if 'twasn't never found again, " he retorted, half-facetiously, and half-vexed that, as she hinted, there were stillconfidences withheld from him. 

Susanna ignored his playfulness, and went on as if he had notinterrupted:

"I'm goin' to make jumbles, an' little frosted cakes, an' teeny-tiny rizbiscuit, an' raisin-loaf. I've got a ham on b'ilin', an'--my suz! Itmost makes me feel a dozen years younger, just the mere idee of havin' achildern's party. We hain't had none sence Johnny run away, an'--"

"Oh, hum! An' here I must lie like a log o' wood an' no share in it. Methat always thought more of young ones 'an you did. Anyhow, I don't seewhat great call _you_ got to mix up in it. S'pose you expect to beinvited, don't you? What you goin' to wear? White with pink ribbons, like all the other little girls?" demanded the imprisoned man. 

"Well, I hain't thought much about my clothes, but I did lay out to wearmy common sense an' trim it with a wreath o' good nature, an' maybe asprig of patience fastenin' the hull. Never mind, Moses. Maybe you'llget more share in it 'an I shall. Somethin' may happen to keep me fromenjoyin' myself any more'n you are this minute. An'--my suz! I smellthat ham water b'ilin' over this instant. An'--what next! There's KittyKeehoty comin' out the tool-house with that roll o' grapevine wire thatyou put away so careful--an' it's most more'n she can lug. But she'dtackle it. She'd tackle it if it was twicet as heavy. She's got moreambition an' gumption than ary young one I ever knowed. My suz! Shecouldn't carry it, after all, so she's put it down an' is draggin' it. She looks a pictur'! Her hair blowin' all 'round her head, her cheekslike roses, her feet fairly dancin' with happiness, her eyes like stars. Well, a body'd ought to take a bit o' trouble, now an' then, whilstthey're little. It does take such a mere mite to make childern pleased. She--"

Poor Uncle Moses could bear no more. There had never been so manyinteresting things happening as since he had been in bed, unable to takepart in them. Within his age-worn body beat the heart of a little child, and he was nearly frantic, imagining what might be going on beyond thoseclosed barn doors and he shut out. 

"Clear out, Susanna Sprigg. Get away from that winder. Don't ye let mehear another word about that party. If a miracle happens so's I can goto it, all right. If not--the sooner you look after that ham thebetter. "

Susanna turned from the pane, saying quite gently:

"I don't know as the days of miracles is past. Seems if there was somebeen done right here in Marsden township. I am sorry for ye, Moses. I'dalmost ruther stay to home myself than have you miss the fun. Maybe youwon't. Maybe a fresh miracle will be done. Maybe I shall see you thechief sinner in the synagogue, I mean the most invited comp'ny--My suz!You know what I mean better'n I can say it. I'll fetch you up asandwich, soon's that ham is cooked. "

She hurried below, and the unhappy hired man turned his face from thelight and went to sleep, or tried to, though the odors of good thingswafted to him from the kitchen beneath kept his thoughts on thedisturbing party and angered him against the two children he loved. 

"Should ha' thought they'd waited till I was up an' 'round again. 'Twouldn't have hurt 'em an' would ha' been showing some decent feelin'fer me, " he grumbled. And little did the old man dream that he was, indeed, the very heart and centre of the whole festivity!

Oh, what a day that was! The toilers in the barn sent in word that theywere too busy to stop for any dinner, and Susanna retorted that she washerself fully too busy to cook it for them. Everybody had a slice ofbread and butter and a glass of milk, which didn't take a minute todispose of. Even the mistress, who had returned, fared thus. 

That afternoon Reuben Smith tooted up to Miss Maitland's front gate andhanded out a paste-board box, very large and weighty, which Susannahastily received and carried into the house. There it was hurriedlyopened behind closed doors by Aunt Eunice, with her housemate to assist, and was found to contain a new suit of men's clothing, with allaccessories needful. 

"I'll carry them to poor Nathan at once, and make sure he puts them on. Then, if you're willing, we'll light a fire in your stove and burn allhis old rags, " said the mistress. 

"Not alone, Eunice Maitland, not alone!" cried the old housekeeper, whowouldn't have missed this business if all the jumbles she had made hadburned themselves to a crisp. Fortunately, they were out of the way, andthough she had mixed dough for raisin-cake she hadn't yet put in "thelightenin'. " "If we start to oncet there ain't nothin' to harm, an' thechildern's so busy they'll never notice. Moses is asleep. Let's goright away. My suz! Seems if I couldn't wait to make that poor fellerinto a decent man!"

As excited and eager over their own secret as the young folks overtheirs, they seized bonnets and wraps, and, carrying the box betweenthem, slipped unobserved from the house in the direction of the woods. 

Thus it chanced that they did not see what an unusual thing thestage-driver did; how that, leaving Miss Maitland's parcel at the frontof the house, he drove by a roundabout lane to the back door of thebarn, and there set down, with William's help, two barrel-like tubs, weighty with broken ice and carefully covered with bits of old carpet. Similar tubs had sometimes been brought to Marsden by the samemessenger, but only for such occasions as the Fourth of July or theSunday-school picnic. Never before for any private function, and thenews of the present arrival spread swiftly through the village, suggesting to interested parents that, though themselves uninvited, itmight be as well to go along and see what the children were doing!

And it came at last! The delightful hour, the culmination of all thispreparation. At last, at last, the wheezy clock in the church steepleannounced that it was seven o'clock!

Then from out the many homes of Marsden and its by-ways issued the eagerguests. Girls in white frocks; boys in Sunday suits; all uncomfortablein freshly donned winter flannels--since this was to be a sort ofout-doors party and there must be no afterclaps of croup; and elders intheir second-best attire, worn with an affected indifference of its justhappening so. 

Said Mrs. Turner to Mrs. Clackett: "Course we wasn't asked. It's just achildren's party that Johnny Maitland's little girl is giving as a sortof youngsters' 'infair. ' Pa and me thought 'twas better to come alongand see the children got there safe, them not being used to going outevenings. "

To which her neighbor replied: "Yes, we feel that way about our girlsand boy. But I confess, we're sort of curious to know what the 'Corkis'part of the invitation means. Clackett, he says he guesses Katy meant'caucus, ' but that don't throw no more light on the matter, if it does. What on earth a lot of young ones want with a 'caucus, ' beats me. Buthere we are, and--My! Isn't it pretty?"

Pretty it was, and far, far more than pretty. To these unused eyes sucha scene as might have come from fairy-land. Even to Aunt Eunice, newlyadmitted, the old barn seemed an unknown spot; and she sat enthronedupon her seat of honor--an oat-bin transformed by cushions of straw andsheaves of corn--amazed but equally delighted. The whole great structurewas ablaze with radiance. Susanna's clothes-line and Moses' grapevinewire supported grinning Jacks innumerable. The glowing yellow headslooked down from rafter and beam, peeped from the stalls, dangled fromstanchions. Between them gleamed also oddly shaped Chinese lanterns, andthese were a form of illumination wholly new to that inland village. There were sheaves and vines and branches everywhere, and those whoobserved could scarcely believe that the whole transformation, save andbeyond the carving of the pumpkins, had been wrought by three pairs ofyoung hands. 

What cared happy Kitty Keehoty that of all her crisp ten dollars thereremained but thirteen cents? Hadn't they paid for all these shiningcandles, those tubs of cream, the grotesque lanterns which her newfriends so admired, and the heaps of candy on the table at the far endof the great floor? The table was improvised by a couple of planks laidupon barrels and covered by a cloth borrowed from the linen closet. Itwould have been covered with nothing else, save the candy and a pile ofwooden plates for the cream, had not Susanna produced her ownsurprise--in such stores of cakes and sandwiches and toothsome daintiesas made the small giver of the function open her own eyes in amazement. 

Oh, how delightful it all was! And didn't the pleasure in so many facesmore than pay for the ten dollars spent and the proudly weary widow'shours at an oven door?

But how they came! So fast, so eager, so cordially willing to bepleased! All the young guests who had been bidden by such a painfuloutlay of pen and ink, and all their fathers and their mothers, "theiruncles and their aunts and their cousins!" All the merrier, all thebetter, all the surer of success! For the best was yet to come. Thedelicious, ambitious, loving secret scheme which had originated in theteeming brain of Kitty Keehoty, and, aided and abetted by Montgomery, her knight, was now to be divulged. 

"My--suz!" quoth Susanna, dismayed by the vast proportions ofKatharine's "little party, " "however--shall I give such amultitude--even a bite apiece?"

"I'll help!" cried Mrs. Clackett, quite understanding "a bite apiece"meant no personal violence. "I've lots of stuff baked at home. I'llfetch a basket of it in a jiffy. "

"I, too!" echoed Mrs. Turner, and the pair set briskly homeward inneighborly kindness. Other matrons, not to be outdone, also disappearedfrom the assembly for a brief time; and soon thereafter William wascalled upon to improvise another table, till both were groaning with theweight of good things. 

"My! It's most like a Sunday-school picnic, ain't it?" exclaimed thevillage seamstress, who at seventy years still had the same innocentenjoyment in such affairs as she had had at seven. "But, hush!Somethin's a-doin'!"

Something was certainly "a-doing!" There was a great bustle and stir atthe double doors and in came Deacon Meakin, William, Mr. Clackett, andthe schoolmaster, carrying a cot between them on which lay Moses Jones, at last minus his ball and chain, and feeling as if he didn't knowhimself--so utterly amazed was he. Amid a sudden outringing cheer thecot was carefully deposited in an open space that had been kept for it, close beside that throne where Eunice still sat smiling in gracioushospitality. 

The fresh excitement incident to this arrival had scarcely died, whenMadam Sturtevant appeared, with her small handmaid in train. The ladyhad been somewhat doubtful about accepting the invitation for herself, having been informed by her grandson that, outside The Maples' family, she was the only grown-up so favored except the schoolmaster; and shewas more than doubtful for Alfaretta. For a time the anxious girl's fatehung in the balance. It did not strike Madam as just the correct thingto take a servant--Alfy was really that, of course--to a Maitland party. Yet the child had just as good blood in her veins as many others whowould attend, even if her lot in life were less fortunate. Besides, wasit right to disturb her quiet habits by such frivolity? While the matterwas pending, Alfaretta could only calm her perturbed mind by gatheringevery belated daisy she could find and testing her fortune upon itswhite petals. "Shall I be let to go? Shall I not?" Mostly, the daisiessaid: "I shall!" Yet it was old Whitey who, after all, decided thequestion. 

That mild-eyed bovine had the spirit of an Arab steed. Had she been borna colt and not a calf she would have "pricked it o'er the plain" withthe best of her race; but being merely a somewhat venerable cow, shecould only wander. In the wide fields still surrounding the Mansionthere was sufficient pasturage for many cows, and certainly too much forone; so there was not the slightest reason why she should trespass uponvillage dooryards except the fact that she delighted to do so. Brokengates, which there was nobody to repair, made wandering easy; and it maybe that she had, in part, acquired the habit in the days of her youth, when Verplanck Sturtevant had 'tended her as his son did now. Bothmasters were far better content elsewhere than at home, and Whitey fullyshared their preferences. She had wandered again, some two days since, and had not returned at nightfall, as was her habit. Therefore, remembering that at the "Hallowe'en Corkis" there would be many childrenassembled, and that children "know everything" of village happenings, Madam had come, meaning to ask for news. 

So the daisies had it, truly; and to the young bond-maid the longed-forhappiness had been given. 

When Madam had been assigned a place beside Miss Eunice, and the murmurof voices had recommenced, somebody struck a bell and every ear and eyebecame attentive. Katharine did not know whether this were the approvedmethod of bringing a "Corkis" to silence, but it was one that served inschool and proved to do so here. While the silence lasted and thecrowding guests craned their necks forward, she was seen to lead, push, or in some manner propel a reluctant boy toward a ladder resting againstthe hay-mow and in full sight of most. 

The boy was Montgomery, of course, and he was positively shaking withfright; but the girl whispered something in his ear--"For Uncle Mose!"and he rallied to his duty. Tossing off her guiding hand, he ran to theladder, mounted it half-way, and faced about upon the multitude. He hadbeen well tutored. He fixed his eyes not upon the faces below but at anexalted roof-beam, and addressing that began:

"Girls and boys, gentlemen and ladies: You have been invited hereto-night to enjoy yourselves and to make somebody else enjoy himself. That somebody is Uncle Moses Jones, whom we all love, and who has hadlots of trouble and broken bones lately. Next Tuesday is going to beelection when our fathers and mothers vote, or--or--fathers do, anyway. If we ask our folks to do things they generally do them. What I ask nowis that every one of you shall ask your father to vote for Uncle Mose tobe constable, and I now nomernate him to be a constable. All in favor ofhis being constable--say 'aye!'"

Amid the uproar of "ayes" that followed Monty jumped headlong from hisrostrum and would have run straight to his grandmother, had not KittyKeehoty caught him midway and hugged him her stoutest, crying: "Oh, yousplendidest brave boy! You did it, you did it! You never tripped once. You never stuttered a single stutter from beginning to end! Who says yousha'n't be President some day, an' be nomernated in a grown-up corkis?But--my sake, Montgomery Sturtevant! You forgot the most important part. I'll have to say that myself, 'cause it's that will count. That will bethe promise. "

Another stroke of Aunt Eunice's table-bell and a white-clad littlefigure was in Monty's place upon the ladder, holding up her hand forclose attention. Without preliminary she informed the audience thatthere was one thing had been forgotten, and that was "the cranberries. "

"Right by the head of the table is a basket of cranberries. _A cranberryis a promise. _ There's another empty basket beside the full one. Everybody, girl or boy, who wants Uncle Moses to be constable must takea cranberry out one basket and drop it into the other; and--_those whodon't drop cranberries can't have--ice-cream!_"

Squire Pettijohn had come--in a case of general town interest as thisseemed to be it was important the great man should be present--and itwas he who cried so loudly: "Hear! Hear!" and it was he, also, whostarted the laughter which followed, and pinched Kate's cheek as shepassed him, saying something about "intimidation" and "lobbying, " atwhich there was more laughter--Katy wondering why. 

But the laughter did not continue long, since it was surely now time forsupper; and, having swiftly decided that however little she might likehim, yet the Squire's influence might be a powerful factor in carryingout this secretly designed plan of the children's, Miss Eunice was justdescending from her oat-bin throne to ask him to open the feast, whenanother slight commotion occurred near the door. A woman screamed, andevery eye turned upon two tardy and uninvited guests, who, leading eachother as it were, now entered the scene. 

Whitey, the cow, and Nate Pettijohn--tramp!

CHAPTER XXI. 

A NEIGHBORLY TRICK OF THE WIND

THE silence which followed lasted for a long time, during which Whiteystared mildly about upon her many acquaintances as if daring one of themto accuse her of vagrancy. Nathan, newly clothed and decent of apparel, but, as to unkempt hair and besmirched skin, still unmistakably thetramp, let his wild, frightened eyes roam ceaselessly from one guest toanother till, finally, they fixed their gaze upon one face and restedthere. 

The face was that of Squire Pettijohn, hitherto complacent, self-satisfied village magnate. Now suddenly grown haggard and old, confronting that other face so curiously like his own. His son! Whosescant intelligence had always been a shame to him and because of whichhe had given neglect where care should have been. Whom he had beensecretly thankful to lose and whom he had hoped would never again befound. 

But he had found himself, and for a time the misguided parent and mostunhappy child studied each other in mutual shrinking and dismay. Allthe adult guests recognized poor Nathan, now restored to the outwardsemblance of the decent citizen he had once been, and understood how itwas that in their fleeting glimpses of the recent "tramp" there had beensomething puzzlingly familiar. The children gathered in knots, staringand quiet, and more than half-afraid. Unconsciously they felt that herewas tragedy where but a moment since had been their merry comedy. 

Then Katharine, as little lady of the feast, resolved to end thisdreadful silence which was spoiling all the fun; and, running toNathan's side, took his hand in hers and led him forward, saying:

"This is a friend of mine, people, and he's just in time for supper. Iknow him very well. I spent an afternoon with him down by the river, andyou ought to know him, too, Uncle Moses, 'cause he's such a goodfisher. "

Then she pushed Nathan's soiled hand toward the man on the cot, whohesitated for one second, glancing toward the Squire's set face, thengrasped it cordially, exclaiming:

"Why, Nate, hello! When'd you come to town? Hain't never lost your vote, have ye? 'Cause I 'low you'll have to cast it for me for constable nextTuesday, sence I've just been nomernated for the office. Hey?"

The tramp's eyes left his father's person and looked down upon thegenial, helpless man beside him, and a slow smile stole into them. 

"Hello, Uncle Mose. I've got here--eh?"

"Yes, you've got here, got home, all right. Better stay now. We'reall--I say we're _all_ glad to see ye. Marsden ain't such a bigcommunity she can afford to lose anybody. Where'd ye hail from, anyway?"

The hired man had grasped the situation promptly. Recognizing Nathan, healso recognized, as he supposed, the solution of the mysteries which hadsurrounded him of late. Eunice and Susanna had found the vagrant out, and had kept his identity secret, fearing the Squire. Now to Moses'intense satisfaction in his nomination--irregular though it was--wasadded the reflection that no harm could result, since at present therewas no constable in Marsden, nor would be one until he himself waselected. He would be elected, of course. There was now no doubt of that. Kitty Keehoty, bless her! had put her small hand to the wheel of fortuneand given it a whirl which was fast sending all good things his way. Then, if he was so favored, should his first official act be thepunishment of a fellow townsman? A fishing townsman, at that? Not if he, Moses Jones, knew himself; and though he was still a "bedrid block o'wood, " the block was fast repairing and would soon be as good as afreshly growing tree. 

"From--from him. From Planck. I--I come to bring the box. But--I lostit. Oh, Madam! he sent it to you--he was dyin' then--and I've lostit--I've lost it! Planck'll be mad. He'll scowl and talk--Has anybodyseen Planck's box?"

The forlorn fellow had left Moses' side and crossed to where MadamSturtevant sat rigidly upon her elevated throne. The memories thisreturned wanderer had roused in her were so painful that they seemed tostrangle her. Her throat grew dry, her lips parched, and her gaze wasglued to the face of the vagrant who had been her lost son's chosencompanion, vassal, possible friend. Why, why had he come?

Eunice laid her hand on the gentlewoman's arm. She felt that thistension must be loosed, even at the cost of fresh pain. "Elinor, " saidshe, "you have borne much. Can you endure a further shock? it may be offresh sorrow, but it may be of joy. Your brass bound box is found. Nathan brought it, Katharine found it, I have it. "

Squire Pettijohn coughed, and strode majestically forward. He was oncemore the man of position who must see to it that his townsmen'sinterests were protected. This woman had maligned him. He had heard thatshe complained of his usuries, that he had taken advantage of hermisfortunes, that he was a hard and cruel man. Worst of all to him--hadsaid that he was not a gentleman! Conquering his disappointment atNathan's return, he improved his opportunity of punishing and humblingher. 

"Madam Sturtevant, ah--er--hm-m--at the time your guilty sondisappeared, taking my son--whom his influence had ruined--with him, itwas said that a certain casket of valuables disappeared as well. Inbehalf of the interest Marsden took in the case, and of my own--my ownpersonal interest, I demand that if that casket has been restored itshall be opened here in the presence of your townsmen. I--er--myaccommodation in times of your necessities, the large amounts now dueme--I claim the right, the authority to say--Let the casket beproduced. "

Madam said nothing. She fixed her large eyes, still guiltless ofspectacles (save in the privacy of home), and regarded him as she mighthave regarded some reptile. 

Nathan seemed struggling with words which fear of his father preventedhis speaking. But Miss Maitland stepped down, and, by a nod, summonedothers to her, so that the vagrant presently felt himself surrounded bya group of kindly faces, which beamed upon him in protection. William, Deacon Meakin, the chivalrous schoolmaster, Susanna, and Katharine, quite unafraid to fling her small arm around his stooping shoulders andto pat them encouragingly. 

Then Aunt Eunice went out, but was back again so quickly she had hardlybeen missed. She carried her hands quite high, so that all might see thestrange, glittering, brass bound box they held, and, going swiftlyforward, laid it on the Madam's lap, who recoiled from it, at firstshrinking back and letting her clasped hands drop limply to her sides, yet rallied her courage and her pride as Eunice's tone of commandtouched both. 

"Open it, Elinor. It is right. It is just. Let the truth be known atlast. "

Everybody crowded forward, the Squire among them, as with a simpletouch, known only to the initiated, the keyless casket was unbanded andopened to the sight of all. Those who had anticipated the blaze ofjewels, or, at least, the bulk of valuable papers and bonds, fell backdisappointed. The box was absolutely empty save for a small folded sheetwhich looked like an ordinary letter. 

A sigh, like a great sob, swept over the multitude, and now the fearwhich had troubled the tramp vanished, and, breaking free of the groupabout him, he laid his hand on Madam's knee and cried, exultantly:

"I did it! I fetched it safe. I was sick--oh, I was sick!--I was injail--I was on an island--I was shipwrecked--I was in the water, withbig, big waves--I was--so long, so long. But I wore it on a strap aroundmy neck. Planck wrote it all and sealed it and put it in the box. Thenhe died, and I had promised; so I had to come, else I would have died, too. I wanted to, without Planck. But we'd told it to each other. We wasgood friends. Planck never called me 'fool, ' not once, not in all ourlives. When he went away with not a cent in his pocket, I couldn't standit. Old Squire was rough. Old Squire was rich. Planck should be rich, too, just one little box full, anyway. But--He wrote it all down--readit, read it. Read it out real plain, like he was saying it again. Myhead aches. I can't think. Planck could think. But--Planck is dead. "

In a dull despair the poor wretch who had journeyed so many leagues, across so many lands, through so many weary years, dropped his face inhis hands, and wept like a child. 

But with dry eyes, if tremulous hands, Elinor Sturtevant opened theletter as she had been besought. It bore date of a day long past, andaddress of Majomba, Africa, in the familiar script of her idolized son;yet keeping nothing secret to herself, she did "read it out, " and thisit was:

 "MY DEAR MOTHER:--I send my farewell to you from this distant corner of the earth, where I came seeking fortune and finding death. Nathan has just got well of the fever from which I am dying, and promises to carry this letter to you. I have no money to send it by post even if I did not think it kindness to entrust him with it. He has loved me, been faithful to me even unto death, and it will be a last trust to comfort him. I foresee that he will have many vicissitudes before he reaches home--if ever he does; though it is my prayer that he may and that dear old Marsden will receive him kindly. 

 "It is his wish, and it is but just, to explain that he stole your brass bound box, in which I enclose this, and why. Simply for my unworthy sake. He believed that it held money, and a fear that I would be angry with him if I knew of the deed, made him keep it secret for a long, long time. Then once, in dire necessity, after Elizabeth was gone, he did confess and give it to me, and we opened it together. 

 "It was absolutely empty. I tell you this, dying; when a man speaks the truth. If ever it held valuables they had been removed, and, presumably, by my father. I supposed you, also, knew this, and so would not break the silence my angry pride imposed for the sake of a mere empty box. Do not blame poor Nate--he is scarce blameworthy, and he has loved me blindly all his life. So would he have loved his austere father if he had had a chance. And of all the lessons my life has brought me this I hold the highest--that love is best. 

 "I think of Elizabeth, sweetly resting under the turf at home. I think of my little son, and pray our Heavenly Father to be kinder to him than his earthly one has been. I think of my mother, whose heart I broke, and, dying, I cry--God bless her. 

 "VERPLANCK. "

When the clear old voice quavered into silence there was not a dry eyeleft among the enrapt listeners. There was not a heart of man or womanthat did not feel a sting at its own unjust judgment of the past. Norwas there one, either old or young, who did not pity rather than blamethe poor sinner who had "loved much. "

Some one was seen to go softly away. It was Squire Pettijohn, forgetfulof his dire threat against any son of man who dared to "tramp" God'searth, unwarranted. Squire Pettijohn, with head bowed, heart humbled, who had always branded another man's son as "thief, " only to find thatself-confessed offender the child of his own home. Nobody sought tohinder him. In silence let him suffer his own shame--that would bepunishment sufficient. 

Madam sat so long with the opened box and letter in her lap, and withher eyes staring so at vacancy, that Katharine could not bear it. Norcould she bear that Monty should cry, as he was doing in that dreadful, quiet way. Boys shouldn't cry--it meant something terrible when theydid. Besides, why should he now, anyway? The knowledge of his father'sdeath was nothing new; and here was all the mystery explained, and thesuspicion which had clouded his name completely removed. 

"Why, Monty, darling, splendid Monty! Don't! Don't! You ought to be thegladdest boy who ever lived. See. Look at your grandmother. She isn'tsaying anything, and there is sorrow in her face, but there's wonderfulpride in it, too. Why, think, boy, think! If for years and years you hadthought somebody you loved was bad and then suddenly found they weregood, after all, would you cry? No, indeed. Anyhow, I shouldn't. Ishould just hip-hip-hurrah! Three cheers for your father, that all cantalk of and love now, and was, Uncle Moses says, one of the splendidestboys ever grew up in Marsden. Only he didn't like to stay at home, andthat got him into trouble. That took away his chance of ever beingPresident. But you can be if you want to. Any boy who stays at home andcures his own stuttering by just taking care and practising and goingslow--and being dreadful nice to his grandmother--or mothers andfathers, like Ned's and Bob's--they can grow up to be Presidents orconstables, 'ary' one. Let's give them, the cheers! Three for MontgomerySturtevant, who's never going to do a wrong thing again, because he'sfound a father to talk about and love, just as I do 'Johnny, ' who wasmine! Three cheers for Nate Pettijohn, who brought the good news home!Three cheers for the brass bound box, that tried to be a gold mine, butturned out something ever and ever so much better! And three times threecheers for Uncle Moses Jones, who is going to be constable, after all, and looks this minute as if he wanted to arrest me, the first one, because I don't fetch him his supper, and who knows as well as I do thatall that ice-cream is melting lickety-cut, while I stand here talking!Hip! Hip! Hurr-a-ah! And a tiger! Hip--hip--hurrah!"

How the rafters rang! and how surprised was every one to hear a girl, amere little girl, deliver such an oration, and with such an entireforgetfulness of self. Not knowing then how great her heart was nor howshe longed to make glad every single person in the world, even thoughmost of her schemes went so wide of the mark that her own father haddubbed her his little "Quixote. "

This brought all the company safely back from the realm of sentiment anddeep emotion to the commonplace level of hunger and good cheer awaitingit. So Eunice Maitland herself led the way to table with NathanPettijohn close beside her, and, since there were no chairs to sit upon, took her stand at the end, and, bowing her graceful old head, gavesilent thanks to the Giver of a feast so glorious as this had proved. 

Even Madam, who could not be persuaded to leave her lofty isolation uponthe oat-bin, nor to loose her hold of her brass bound box with itsprecious enclosure--so much more valuable than the diamonds which hadonce sparkled within it--even she did consent to taste of that raredelicacy which had come to Marsden in ugly wooden tubs. Her portion, though, was brought upon a china dish, because Susanna feared thegentlewoman's fastidious palate would dislike the flavor of a woodenplate. But then, intimate as she was through hearsay with the Mansionhousehold, Susanna had yet never heard about burnt suppawn, and how anold-time gentlewoman can eat it without grimacing, even though she chokein the event. And Alfaretta--Her happiness must be guessed at. Thereisn't time to tell it; nor how many times her wooden plate was filledand refilled. It seemed to Katharine, observant, as if the poor girl'smouth opened and closed like a trap over every morsel presented to it, and that there was no evidence of swallowing. But, then, Alfy had neverbefore attended a Hallowe'en Corkis, and probably never would again. 

Still observant, Katharine saw Aunt Eunice's dear face grow more andmore thoughtful, yet with a thoughtfulness in no measure sad. Finally, she left Nathan to Mrs. Clackett's care and hastily crossed the room toMadam's side. 

"Elinor, do you remember how hard the old Squire tried to tell us whowere watching his last hours of something that troubled him? And how wefailed to comprehend?"

"Surely, Eunice, I remember, " answered the old wife, slightly aggrieved. "Why should I not if you do?"

"Because one night when you had dropped asleep he roused, almost likehimself again, and saw me. Then he said: 'Eunice, I am very forgetful. But I remember something now that I must tell Elinor. ' I was so foolish, I fancied some other time would do, and you were so tired. I couldn'tbear that you should be awakened, and nodded toward the sofa where youlay. He seemed to understand, and murmured: 'Never mind. I'll tell you. There is provision ample. He didn't take it. I accused him because Imissed it. I--I--secret chamber--Oh, my head!' Then he dropped awayagain, and afterward came only those hopeless efforts which you saw aswell as I. Now, I believe I've had an inspiration. Verplanck's father, sane, recalled the fact that he had wrongly accused his son while hismind wandered. It was he who had emptied the brass bound box andbestowed its contents in some place he felt was safer. In the secretchamber, I believe. Let us go and search for them!"

"Eunice, how silly! As if I hadn't ransacked every inch of every room inthe old Mansion--all for nothing. Besides, what could one do at night?"

"What may we not do? What is one pair of eyes to many? What one tallowdip to a hundred Jack-o'-lanterns, lighted with real 'store' candles?May we try? Shall I give the word?"

Madam stood up. She was so happy in her letter that she cared not whatelse might happen. Besides, it was impossible to avoid sharing theenthusiasm shining in the face of her lifelong friend. 

"Eunice, you are positively as childish as Katharine herself. But do asyou please, do as you please. All the world is welcome to the Mansionnow that it's honor has come home! And, servantless almost as I am, Ican comfortably feel that there is no room, nor closet even, in the oldplace that is not fit for the inspection of every Marsden housewife. Yes, thank God! I have never felt myself demeaned by any household taskthat presented, and cleanliness is part of pure religion. Do as youlike, dear, do as you like. "

This was glorious! All Marsden felt that the night held too much ofwonder to be true. After the party, after the restoration of the brassbound box, after Nathan Pettijohn's rehabilitation, after theestablishment of Verplanck Sturtevant's innocence, after Moses'nomination, after the fine feast, to be admitted, to visit andexamine--nay, more, authorized to pry into the famous but exclusiveMansion--Well, words simply failed. 

The elders in that astonishing procession conducted themselves morehilariously than their children. Each armed with a grinning Jack, andsomebody driving Whitey as a snowy guide, they marched two abreast downMarsden thoroughfare, into the Mansion grounds, through the wideentrance hospitably thrown open, into and over the house as will orcuriosity dictated. 

But everywhere with eager eyes, searching, hoping for the statelyimpoverished mistress of the Mansion that her treasures might be found. 

Only the most nimble followed Monty and Katharine up the queer stairs ofthe "old part" into the chamber under the eaves where soldiers had oncelain hidden. But even they, with their gleaming Jacks, were sufficientto set the whole low room aglow, yet was there no longer need forsearch. 

The wind, which had done such devastation in the town, which had blown awelcome tramp back to his native haunts, had done even more. It hadrevealed the secret of years. Part of the chimney lay heaped on thefloor, and among the fallen bricks and stones appeared a big tin box. Amost ordinary box, such as many people use for insignificant belongings. 

Somebody dubiously suggested that "It might be _it_!"

[Illustration: "EACH ARMED WITH A GRINNING JACK, AND SOMEBODY DRIVINGWHITEY AS A SNOWY GUIDE"]

There was nothing dubious about Montgomery. Tossing his lantern to BobTurner, he seized the tin case and scampered down the ladder stairs witha speed nothing but habit could have secured. Rushing into the ancientdrawing-room, so oddly lighted now, he flung himself headlong uponMadam, stammering excitedly:

"Gr-gr-gram-ma! I've found i-i-i-it!"

Madam remembered the box, so valueless in itself. She had not seen itfor years. She had no faith that it held aught but trifles now. Let thegood neighbors see. A simple turn of the wrist, the commonplace keyclicked in the lock, the flat cover fell back and--the lost treasure wasrevealed! All the missing jewels in their cases, all the bonds whosevalue would more than lift the mortgages upon the fine old property, allthe gold in canvas sacks which would take Montgomery through college andtrain him for that possible Presidency to which he aspired. 

Was ever such a night? Was ever such honest neighborly rejoicing? Andwere ever Marsden townsfolk so late out of their comfortable beds? Forthe candles in the Jacks had long burned out before that procession ofhappy people took their now darkened way homeward and Kitty Keehoty'sHallowe'en Corkis came to its final end. 

THE END.