he
yard no one was in sight; but the barn door was open, and, with a quick
indrawing of his breath, David turned back into the room and began to
thrust himself into his clothing.

The gold in his sagging pockets clinked and jingled musically; and once
half a dozen pieces rolled out upon the floor. For a moment the boy
looked as if he were going to let them remain where they were. But the
next minute, with an impatient gesture, he had picked them up and
thrust them deep into one of his pockets, silencing their jingling with
his handkerchief.

Once dressed, David picked up his violin and stepped softly into the
hall. At first no sound reached his ears; then from the kitchen below
came the clatter of brisk feet and the rattle of tins and crockery.
Tightening his clasp on the violin, David slipped quietly down the back
stairs and out to the yard. It was only a few seconds then before he
was hurrying through the open doorway of the barn and up the narrow
stairway to the loft above.

At the top, however, he came to a sharp pause, with a low cry. The next
moment he turned to see a kindly-faced man looking up at him from the
foot of the stairs.

"Oh, sir, please--please, where is he? What have you done with him?"
appealed the boy, almost plunging headlong down the stairs in his haste
to reach the bottom.

Into the man's weather-beaten face came a look of sincere but awkward
sympathy.

"Oh, hullo, sonny! So you're the boy, are ye?" he began diffidently.

"Yes, yes, I'm David. But where is he--my father, you know? I mean
the--the part he--he left behind him?" choked the boy. "The part
like--the ice-coat?"

The man stared. Then, involuntarily, he began to back away.

"Well, ye see, I--I--"

"But, maybe you don't know," interrupted David feverishly. "You aren't
the man I saw last night. Who are you? Where is he--the other one,
please?"

"No, I--I wa'n't here--that is, not at the first," spoke up the man
quickly, still unconsciously backing away. "Me--I'm only Larson, Perry
Larson, ye know. 'T was Mr. Holly you see last night--him that I works
for."

"Then, where is Mr. Holly, please?" faltered the boy, hurrying toward
the barn door. "Maybe he would know--about father. Oh, there he is!"
And David ran out of the barn and across the yard to the kitchen porch.

It was an unhappy ten minutes that David spent then. Besides Mr. Holly,
there were Mrs. Holly, and the man, Perry Larson. And they all talked.
But little of w