if I don't. Come on, let's go out
doors."

Granny Thornton, peering out an attic window at the boy and girl, going
up along the brook, turned and felt along a dusty beam until her fingers
rested on a key. With this she unlocked a drawer of an old bureau, that
stood in a dark, out-of-the-way corner. There were some odds and ends of
clothing there, and some boxes and papers. From out the stuff, she drew,
with trembling fingers, a small gold chain, such as children wear.
Fumbling over this, she unclasped a tiny clasp and affixed the golden
coin. Then, holding it up to her eyes, she gazed at it long and
earnestly; replaced it in the drawer, locked this, hid the key again and
stole down the stairs.

CHAPTER XIII

A SAILING ADVENTURE

John Ellison, a youth of about fifteen, but of a sturdy build and manner
that might lead one to suppose him older, stood by the gateway of the
Ellison farm, looking down across the fields towards the mill. It was
busy grinding and, as its monotonous tones came up to him, the boy shook
his head sadly. An expression as of anger overspread his manly young
face, and his cheeks flushed.

"It's wrong," he exclaimed, speaking his thoughts aloud; "I'll bet
there's some trick about it. Father always said we should run the mill
some day. It makes me mad to see old Witham sneaking about, afraid to
look any of us in the face; but I suppose there's no help for it."

He went up the driveway to the house, got an axe from the woodshed and
began splitting some pieces of sawed oak and hickory from a great pile
in the yard. It was a relief to his pent-up feelings, and he drove the
axe home with powerful blows. He was a strong, handsome youth, with face
and arms healthily bronzed with work in the open air. He laid a big junk
of the oak across the chopping-block, swung the axe, and cleft the
stick with a single blow that sent the halves flying in either
direction.

"That was a good stroke--a corker," exclaimed a youth who had entered
the yard and come up quietly behind him. John Ellison turned quickly.

"Hello, Henry," he said. "Where'd you come from?"

"Just had a swim," replied Henry Burns. "I see where you get all that
muscle, now. That's good as canoeing, I guess."

"Well," responded John Ellison, looking rather serious, "I reckon I'll
do more of it from now on than canoeing; though I've done my share of
work all along. I'm running the farm now--that is, what we've got left.
Witham's got a g