f of Police here. Am I to have that, money, Cousin Ned,
or--"

"Of course," he said hastily.

CHAPTER XXVIII
PLANNING THE FUTURE

It was nearly a month later when Mary Louise, walking down to the river
on an afternoon, discovered Ingua sitting on the opposite bank and
listlessly throwing pebbles into the stream. She ran across the
stepping-stones and joined her little friend.

"How is your grandfather this morning?" she asked.

"I guess he's better," said Ingua. "He don't mumble so much about the
Lost Cause or the poor men who died for it in Ireland, but Ma says his
broken heart will never mend. He's awful changed, Mary Louise. To-day,
when I set beside him, he put out his hand an' stroked my hair an'
said: 'poor child--poor child, you've been neglected. After all,' says
he, 'one's duties begin at home.' He hasn't had any fits of the devils
lately, either. Seems like he's all broke up, you know."

"Can he walk yet?" inquired Mary Louise.

"Yes, he's gett'n' stronger ev'ry day. This mornin' he walked to the
bridge an' back, but he was ruther wobbly on his legs. Ma said she
wouldn't have left him, just now, if she wasn't sure he'd pick up."

"Oh. Has your mother gone away, then?"

"Left last night," said Ingua, "for Washington."

"Is her vacation over?"

"It isn't that," replied the child. "Ma isn't going to work any more,
just now. Says she's goin' to take care o' Gran'dad. She went to
Washington because she got a telegram saying that Senator Ingua is
dead."

"Senator Ingua?"

"Yes; he was my godfather, you see. I didn't know it myself till Ma
told me last night. He was an uncle of Will Scammel, my father that
died, but he wasn't very friendly to him an' didn't give him any money
while he lived. Ma named me after the Senator, though, 'cause she knew
which side her bread was buttered on, an' now he's left me ten thousand
dollars in his will."

"Ten thousand!" exclaimed Mary Louise, delightedly, "why, you Craggs
are going to be rich, Ingua. What with all the money your mother got
back from Ned Joselyn and this legacy, you will never suffer poverty
again."

"That's what Ma says," returned the child, simply. "But I dunno whether
I'll like all the changes Ma's planned, or not. When she gets back from
Washington she's goin' to take me an' Gran'dad away somewheres for the
winter, an' I'm to go to a girls' school."

"Oh, that will be nice."

"Will it, Mary Louise? I ain't sure. And while we're gone th