e you
say."

"And there's old Billy for special guard duty," added auntie, laughing.
"See him now, poor old fellow! he doesn't know whether he's scared out
of his few wits, or whether he likes the commotion."

Grandma followed auntie's glance.

"He likes it," she said, "for see, he's bringing out his music-box, and
that's the highest honour he can pay any one."

I must stop right here and tell you about old Billy, for he was a
life-long institution at grandma's. I wish I could make you see the dear
old fellow as I see him now, in my mind's eye. A tall, thin, bent old
man he was, not much over fifty, in reality, though he looked seventy. A
shock of rough gray hair stood out all over his head, and a gray,
tousled-looking beard covered half his face. A pair of keen,
startled-looking eyes flashed sharp, observant glances this way and
that, from under his shaggy eyebrows. Few words he had on any occasions,
but he generally spoke straight to the point.

A sad story had poor old Billy. He had been a bright lad in a
neighbouring village, and, when he was about eighteen, had come to work
for Captain Maxwell. He was very faithful and responsible, and soon
became a fixture on the place. Then poor Billy one day got a terrible
fall in the barn, and was taken up for dead. However, he was not dead,
only unconscious, and terribly hurt. He had a long and severe illness,
during which Mrs. Maxwell had him carefully nursed and cared for in her
own home.

At length he recovered, but, alas! his poor mind was hopelessly
affected, and the doctor said that, though he might be much better, he
would never be quite right again. Everybody thought they ought to send
him to the poorhouse, as he had no home to be sent to, but Captain
Maxwell refused to do this. So he stayed on, and, gradually, as he grew
stronger, he took up some simple duties again. However, he had forgotten
everything, even how to read.

But he was very happy in his dim way, for he did not realize all that
had happened to him. So several years passed, when suddenly a lawyer's
letter was received, stating that William Ruggles was heir to a large
amount of money from a brother who had gone West many years before and
had never been heard of since. He had died leaving no family, and no
other heir than Billy.

Of course there was a great deal of troublesome law business to be
adjusted, but the end of it was that, a few months later, Billy was in
possession of a small fortune.