ly help us--if she could. We think the letter of
instruction will sometime be found, and that will make all clear. We
don't like law, and Adam would have hated it. No; we'll wait for a time
longer, but I promised father I'd consult Cousin Archibald, and see when
he would meet either father or Uncle Fred to discuss it.

"Meanwhile, old Israel and his wife are doing just the same at Burnside
as if their master were still there. All I could think of taking the
property for, it seems to me, would be to give my father such a lovely
home again."

"Well, Amy, I must go. I want to finish reading that book Mr. Kaye lent
me, this afternoon. I'll see you at the club to-night. Good-by."

With a kiss and a hand pressure, which revealed the depth of their
friendship, Mary departed, and Amy turned to the open window to watch
the cloud shadows drift over the lovely valley, wherein the Ardsley
leaped and sparkled. As she gazed, thinking of many things, she became
conscious, in an idle sort of fashion, that Fayette had passed out of
doors, and was walking close beneath, or along the building's wall, and
in a stealthy manner, suspicious in itself.

"Heigho! What now, I wonder. He's up to some mischief, I'm afraid. How
queer he is at times. Why, even when he was told that Mr. Wingate knew
him for the person who horsewhipped him last Christmas and had refused
to take any notice of it, except to thank Uncle Fred for his
rescue--even then Fayette would not say that he thought my cousin good.
All he did say was: 'Well, he better not. He knows too much. If he
locked me up or had me fined, I'd lick him again soon's I got out. He
ain't no fool. But that don't make me feel any different. He ain't
jailed me, but he's got my money. _Mine_; I dug it out the cellar an'
blasted, to the risk o' my life. He keeps it, when he's got a bank full,
they say. Kept Balaam, too, or give him to one of them Metcalf
youngsters. Well, his time'll come. I'm not forgettin', if I do keep my
mouth shut for a spell.'"

Recalling this speech, Amy tried to put herself in the half-wit's place,
which effort made her pity him the more, yet watch his present
manoeuvres none the less closely. But presently he disappeared in a
distant lower doorway, and she forgot him and returned to her happy
day-dreams.

Fayette had bided his time. On such an afternoon, at such an hour, he
judged that nobody would be in the mill building save the distant
watchman and that indefatigable