onny only
responded with a respectful bow.

"Well, Conny, you shall have a shop. I'll give you the key to the little
south attic. That was my boy's playroom, and you may keep your tools
there, and lock the door, and nobody shall enter without your leave, not
even I."

The evident delight that beamed from Conny's eyes almost brought the
tears into Mrs. Hunter's, and made her resolve that this young genius
should have a chance to grow. She even felt that it would not be
honorable in her to reveal his secret to the doctor, but decided that
she would wait a few weeks for Betty's birthday.

But before Betty's birthday another secret came to light. Dr. Hunter had
twice noticed a strange, rough-looking man hanging about the premises.
He had made a pretense of looking for work, but the doctor distrusted
him, and ordered him away.

[Illustration: THE DOCTOR COMING UPON CONNY AND THE MOONSHINER IN
HEMLOCK GLEN.]

To his great surprise, a few mornings later, he came suddenly upon the
same man in the heart of Hemlock Glen, in earnest conversation with
Conny. The man instantly disappeared in the woods, and the doctor
reined up his horse, and bade Conny get into the gig. He obeyed
silently, crouching, as he often did, at the doctor's feet, and dangling
his bare legs over the side of the gig.

"Who was that man, Conny?" asked the doctor, when they were nearly home.

"Jock McCleggan, sir."

"Who is he?"

"Just Jock, sir: a man that lives off and on here-abouts."

"Oh," said the doctor, understanding perfectly well that Jock was a
moonshiner; "and what business have you with a rascal like that?"

"He knew my feyther, sir, and he's been saying to me these many days
that it was agreed between 'em I was to 'bide with him when my feyther
died. It's a lee, sir; my feyther never said it."

"He'd better not show his face to me again," said the doctor. "I'll
horsewhip him."

Conny suddenly pulled a crumpled bit of paper from his bosom and showed
it to the doctor, saying,

"He brought me that just the morning."

The doctor read:

"TO MR. JOCK MCCLEGGIN,--i want yu tu tak mi sun Cony tu du as if
he was yure one. i mene wen i am ded."

"SANDY MCCONEL."

"Do you think your father wrote it?" asked the doctor, smiling a little.

Conny looked at him with grave displeasure.

"My feyther was a gentleman, sir, not a blitherin' loon like Jock
McCleggan, to stumble at spelling his own name." Then, with a great deal
o