nd his mother lived up on the hill, at the end of the
straggling village street. The house was a small, old-fashioned one,
painted white, set in the middle of a small but beautiful lawn. George
Duncan, during the last rather helpless years of his life, had devoted
himself to the cultivation of flowers, shrubs, and trees and, as a
result, his lawn was the prettiest in Conway. Ernest worked hard in
his spare moments to keep it looking as well as in his father's
lifetime, for he loved his little home dearly, and was proud of its
beauty.

He ran gaily into the sitting-room.

"Tea ready, lady mother? I'm hungry as a wolf. Good news gives one an
appetite. Mr. White has raised my salary a couple of dollars per week.
We must celebrate the event somehow this evening. What do you say to a
sail on the river and an ice cream at Taylor's afterwards? When a
little woman can't outlive her schoolgirl hankering for ice
cream--why, Mother, what's the matter? Mother, dear!"

Mrs. Duncan had been standing before the window with her back to the
room when Ernest entered. When she turned he saw that she had been
crying.

"Oh, Ernest," she said brokenly, "Jacob Patterson has just been
here--and he says--he says--"

"What has that old miser been saying to trouble you?" demanded Ernest
angrily, taking her hands in his.

"He says he holds your father's promissory note for nine hundred
dollars, overdue for several years," answered Mrs. Duncan. "Yes--and
he showed me the note, Ernest."

"Father's promissory note for nine hundred!" exclaimed Ernest in
bewilderment. "But Father paid that note to James Patterson five years
ago, Mother--just before his accident. Didn't you tell me he did?"

"Yes, he did," said Mrs. Duncan, "but--"

"Then where is it?" interrupted Ernest. "Father would keep the
receipted note, of course. We must look among his papers."

"You won't find it there, Ernest. We--we don't know where the note is.
It--it was lost."

"Lost! That is unfortunate. But you say that Jacob Patterson showed
you a promissory note of Father's still in existence? How can that be?
It can't possibly be the note he paid. And there couldn't have been
another note we knew nothing of?"

"I understand how this note came to be in Jacob Patterson's
possession," said Mrs. Duncan more firmly, "but he laughed in my face
when I told him. I must tell you the whole story, Ernest. But sit down
and get your tea first."

"I haven't any appetite for tea no