ack!"

"Oh, he'll come, of course, one way: that's feet foremost. He's a sight
feebler 'n he ever let on, an' this riotous livin' at York, what with
balls and parties and wine suppers, he won't last long. They'll kill him
out of hand amongst 'em."

"Oh, Israel, the idea of Adam Burn at 'balls and parties and wine
suppers,' when he's so simple and sweet and abstemious. I don't believe
he ever tasted wine during all his pure, beautiful life. I'm not
worrying about that. It's the leaving the things he loved will hurt him
so. Why couldn't Sarah Jane have left him in peace? O dear! O dear! This
will be a fresh sorrow for mother."

"So I suppose. For all of us, too. It's going to be lonesome for me, I
reckon. Though Mis' Boggs won't have so much to do. She wants to give up
the job, an' go live with our son, Jim. But Sarah Jane told us to stay,
an' so we'll have to."

"Is this dreadful woman who's spirited Adam away any kin to _you_?"

"Course not. But you needn't laugh. You don't know that lady. She's
masterful, and she's rich--'rich as Croesus,'--and don't know what to
do with her money. When the old man was lookin' around an' chargin' me
'bout things, she broke in with: 'Oh, don't worry, father-in-law. The
trumpery stuff isn't worth so much thought. I'm not a relic hunter, and
let it go,' says she. Then he reminds her that he wanted it kept right
for--Whew! I near let the secret out, didn't I? He told me he wrote you
a letter. He gave it to you, didn't he? Well, if you'll carry the
message for me, I won't climb 'Spite' hill this morning. There's a few
things to fetch up in the open wagon, and I'll see your folks about
hauling that muck. Good-by. The spirit's taken clean out of me.
Twenty-five years me and him has lived together, and to part sudden like
this. Twenty-five years by the clock, and a better man than him never
trod the footstool."

With that Israel brought the mare around, and giving a mournful nod of
his head drove dejectedly away.

Amy flew up the hill. She paid little heed now to the spilling of the
milk, for she began to realize in all its force the calamity which had
befallen them; and she burst into her mother's sitting room flushed and
indignant, demanding:--

"What right had Sarah Jane to take him away?"

Mrs. Kaye's heart sank. She understood what this hysterical question
implied. It had been a contingency long foreboded by her, though against
its justice she could find nothing to say.

"Eve