t the door
struck me as strange, showing that it would be a little while yet before
the full balance of her mind was restored.

"Tell everybody," she cried; "tell Mrs. Packard and all who live in the
house; but keep it secret from the woman who keeps that little shop.
We are afraid of her; she haunts this neighborhood to get at these very
bonds. She was the nurse who cared for my brother, and it was to escape
her greed that he hid this money. If she knew that we had found these
our lives wouldn't be safe. Wait till we have them in the bank."

"Assuredly. I shall tell no one."

"But you must tell those at home," she smiled; and the beaming light in
her kindled eye followed me the few steps I had to take, and even into
the door.

So Bess had been the old man's nurse'!

CHAPTER XVIII. THE MORNING NEWS

That evening I was made a heroine of by Mrs. Packard and all the other
members of the household. Even Nixon thawed and showed me his genial
side. I had to repeat my story above stairs--and below, and relate just
what the old ladies had done and said, and how they bore their joy, and
whatever I thought they would do with their money now they had it. When
I at last reached my room, my first act was to pull aside my shade and
take a peep at the old attic window. Miss Charity's face was there,
but so smiling and gay I hardly knew it. She kissed her hand to me as I
nodded my head, and then turned away with her light as if to show me she
had only been waiting to give me this joyous good night.

This was a much better picture to sleep on than the former one had been.

Next day I settled back into my old groove. Mrs. Packard busied herself
with her embroidery and I read to her or played on the piano. Happier
days seemed approaching, nay, had come. We enjoyed two days of it, then
trouble settled down on us once more.

It began on Friday afternoon. Mrs. Packard and I had been out making
some arrangements for the projected dinner-party and I had stopped for a
minute in the library before going up-stairs.

A pile of mail lay on the table. Running this over with a rapid hand,
she singled out several letters which she began to open. Their contents
seemed far from satisfactory. Exclamation after exclamation left her
lips, her agitation increasing with each one she read, and her haste,
too, till finally it seemed sufficient for her just to glance at the
unfolded sheet before letting it drop. When the last one had left her