e two there
had been, of late, a little secret which Fayette was proud to share.
Each day he would ask, with extreme caution:--

"You hain't told nobody yet, have ye?"

Commonly the cripple would answer: "No; nor shall I. There's no use."

"Sho! Yes, there is. Read it an' see. If it's in the paper, it's so.
Huckleberries! You ain't no more pluck than a skeeter."

Then Hallam would reread the scrap of newspaper he carried in his
pocket; and each time, after such a reading, a brighter light shone in
the eyes of both boys, and the foundling would observe:--

"It's worth tryin'. I say, it's worth tryin'. _I_ ain't tired yet. Keep
her up."

Hallam knew the half-column of print by heart. It had been brought him
by Amy, on the day she went to Mr. Metcalf's office. She had asked the
loan of the newspaper, and had received it as a gift. She had hurried
home, full of enthusiasm, and showed it to Hallam. He had not been
enthusiastic, and had apparently tossed the article aside as worthless
to him. Amy was too busy to give the matter further thought, and did not
know that after she had left the room her brother had read the paragraph
a second time, and had then carefully preserved it.

Even now, as they started for the mill, Fayette requested to "hear it
again," but Hallam declined.

"It's too cold. And if I don't hurry and do what I set out to, I'm
afraid I'll back out."

"Is it somethin' ye hate to do?"

"Yes; it--Don't let's talk about it."

"Just the way I feel. I'd ruther live on one meal a day 'n do it. Once I
give it to her, I shan't never see no more of it. Oh, I know _her_!
She's a regular boss, she is."

"Cleena? But she's a dear old creature, even so."

"Oh, I like her. I like her first rate. She's a good cook an' middlin'
good-lookin'. I hain't got nothin' again her. They say, to the village,
how 't John Young talks o' sparkin' her."

"What? Teamster John? Our Cleena? Well, he'd better not!"

In his indignation Hallam nearly slipped from his saddle. He did let one
of his crutches fall, and Fayette picked up that, took the other, and
cheerfully "packed" them to the end of their journey.

"Why not? His wife's dead."

"Yes. But--our Cleena! Cleena Keegan! Well, there's no danger of her
encouraging him. Between her own 'folks,' yourself, and the Joneses, I
think she has all she can attend to without taking in a man to worry
with."

The subject was idlest village gossip, but it served to divert Hallam'