ures everybody who
befriends him. The last thing he ought to be trusted with is
horse-flesh, or mule-flesh either. Well, I'm going your way, and it's a
tough pull on a pair of crutches. If you'll get in, I'll give you a lift
as far as the bars."

Everybody was astonished, and everybody waited for Hallam's reply in
some anxiety. Amy knew his mind, and she knew, also, that he was very
weary. She hoped that he would say:--

"Thank you; I'll be glad to accept," but his answer was a curt: "Thank
you; I would rather walk."

"Very well. Suit yourself."

The horse was touched sharply, and bounded up the hill road at an
unusual pace.

"Oh, Hal, why didn't you ride? You are so tired."

"Well--because."

"You'd better. Old man don't like to have his favors lost," remarked
Gwendolyn. "I've heard lots say that, even though he hasn't been at
Ardsley so very long."

Now, in the lad's heart, besides his unwillingness to "accept favors
from an enemy," there had been another motive. Until that evening he had
not realized how lonely and dark was the homeward walk for his sister,
after her long day of toil, and even with the company of Gwendolyn. In
this his first experience it had come upon him with a shock, that it was
neither pleasant nor safe for Amy, and he resolved she should never
again be left without his escort, if he were possibly able to be with
her.

But he could not, or felt that he could not, tell this to the girls;
much less to Mr. Wingate, finding it easier to be misjudged than to
explain. Yet had the mill owner known the fact, it would have gone far
toward propitiating him, and toward rousing his admiration for his young
kinsman.

So with the best intentions all around, the breach between Fairacres and
"Charity House" was duly widened.

The trio of mill workers trudged wearily upward, and the mill master
hurried recklessly through the gloom toward a home he had coveted, but
found a lonely, "ghost-haunted" solitude. For though there are no real
spectres to frighten the eye, there are memories which are sadder to
face than any "haunt" would be.

"Stir up the fire, man. Don't you know it's a bitter night outside?" he
cried, as he entered it.

The master's tone boded ill for the servant if obedience were not
prompt. So though a great blaze roared upon the wide hearth in the old
room where we first met this gentleman he was not content, nor was the
good dinner which followed appreciated. Nothing was right tha