The next question was, what to do with
him. He could not stay on as a servant at the Maxwells, and he was
entirely unable to take care of himself. Captain Maxwell had been
appointed his guardian, and trustee of his property. There chanced to be
a small unused building, once an office, on the grounds, and this was
easily changed into a suitable abode for Billy. He had his little
sitting-room, bedroom, and kitchen, and some one to take care of it and
of him, and here lived Billy, as happy as a king. When Captain Maxwell
died, Mrs. Maxwell took Billy as one of her legacies, and here he
probably would end his days.

It was hard at first to make him understand that he need not do any more
work, and yet could have what he called his "pay," just the same, for it
was useless to tell him about his property. His allowance had to be a
small one, for it was soon found that generous Billy emptied his pockets
on all occasions to any one asking. So his allowance was limited to
twenty-five cents a week in his own hands, but the spending of his
"dollar," as he always called his quarter, gave him quite as much
pleasure as if it had been hundreds. He always spent this for tobacco
and peppermint candy, his two luxuries.

Mrs. Ward and Mrs. Somers had been little girls of ten and twelve when
Billy first came there, and all through their childhood he had been
their devoted slave, for the poor soul was patience and fidelity itself.
And to the second generation, old Billy was as much part of the
landscape as the bay itself.

CHAPTER II.

A BROKEN WHEEL.

"Let's take a ride, the very first thing we do," said Eunice, eagerly,
after breakfast. "I'm wild to get behind Mopsie and Charcoal again," for
the ponies had been sent over from East Wellsboro for the children's
use.

"I'm going to--" began Cricket, and then she stopped, remembering that
she was going to surprise the family with what she felt sure would be
the result of her mining explorations,--the finding of mamma's
long-buried money-bag. But then, she could dig any time, she reflected.

So Luke, the man, brought up the ponies, harnessed to the little cart,
that was getting to be close quarters for Eunice and Cricket, to say
nothing of Edna.

"Dearest old Charcoal!" said Eunice, caressing her pony, as he rubbed
his affectionate head against her shoulder, expecting sugar; "isn't it
lovely to have him again! But, Cricket, don't you think he is really
getting smaller all the