haw! that isn't anything. Why, look here, that's the very way your
own folks did. If they hadn't been in debt, they wouldn't have had to
move from Fairacres, and all that. Would they?"

Both Hallam and Amy were silent. The keen common sense of the mill girl
had struck home, and again Amy realized that her vocation was not that
of "preaching." Finally, the cripple spoke:--

"It's like it, yet it isn't. We had something left to pay our debts. It
wasn't money, but it was money's worth. We paid them. We are left poor
indeed, but we haven't mortgaged our future. That's all. But we are too
young to talk so wisely. If your parents approve, they probably know
best. Hark! there is a wagon coming."

They all paused, and drew aside out of the road to let the vehicle pass.
It was so dark that they could distinguish nothing clearly, and the
lantern fastened to the dashboard of the buggy seemed but to throw into
greater shadow the face of the occupant. To their surprise, the
traveller drew rein and saluted them:--

"Hello. Just getting home, eh?"

All recognized the voice. It belonged to Mr. Wingate.

"Yes, just getting home," answered Amy, cheerily.

"Growing pretty dark, isn't it? Hmm, yes. Heard you lost your donkey,
Hallam."

"For the time, I have, sir," responded the lad, rather stiffly. He hated
this man "on sight," or out of it, and it was difficult for him to
conquer his aversion. All the kindness he had felt toward him, on the
night of Mr. Wingate's first unwelcome visit to Fairacres, had been
forgotten since; because in his heart he believed that his mother's
death was due to her removal from her home. Yet he wished to be just,
and he would try to feel differently by and by. Meanwhile, his unused
strength was fast waning. He had met with a great disappointment that
day, for he was going home empty-handed. He had lost his beloved Balaam,
and he had nothing to show for it. In all his life he had never walked
so far as from the mill to the Bareacre knoll, and even his crutches
seemed to wobble and twist with fatigue. Amy had noticed this, and made
him pause to rest more than once; but the night was cold, and he felt it
most unwise to risk taking cold by standing in the wind. Poverty was
teaching Hallam prudence, among many other excellent things.

"None of us can afford to be sick now," he reflected.

"Hmm. That half-witted fellow ought not to be allowed to go free. He's
done me a lot of mischief, and I guess he inj