,
and your mother's little wheel, and you'll find what I want--the old
saddle-bag--in the left-hand, deep drawer. There are papers in it; but
you'd better bring the bag down."

Elizabeth waited a moment, thinking he might drop asleep again, but he
did not.

"I feel rested. It won't hurt me, Lizzie. Better go now, and have it
over with--"

Elizabeth looked at her cousin.

"You'd better go, I guess. It will satisfy him, even if he cannot do
anything about it."

Elizabeth returned almost immediately, and spent a little time brushing
the dirt from the old bag, which she remembered as always taken by her
father on his journeys on horseback long ago, though she had not seen it
for years.

"I brought it from Massachusetts with me well-nigh on fifty year ago,"
said the old man, laying his hand on it. "Where are my glasses? But I
guess you'll find what I want, Lizzie."

There was no lock to be opened. There were a number of folded papers,
laid loosely in the compartments. They were arranged with some order,
however, and Elizabeth read the few words written on the outside of each
as she lifted them out. They were a strange medley, notes of hand,
receipted accounts, the certificate of the squire's first marriage, his
wife's letter of dismissal from the Massachusetts church, dated, as the
squire said, "well-nigh on fifty year ago." Then there was a bundle of
papers marked "Brother Reuben."

"That is it. I ought to look them all over myself. But you'll have to
do it, Lizzie."

There were several acknowledgments of money received, and notes of hand
to a large amount that had passed between the brothers. On one was
written, "Paid for my Joe," and a date; on another, "Lent to my son.
Parley, at the time he went west," and several more of the same kind.
The dates ran over many years, and the father had made himself
responsible for all to the squire.

"He was very independent, was my brother Reuben, always," said the
squire. "He wanted to mortgage his place to me, but I wouldn't have it.
I thought his notes good enough; more easily dealt with anyway than a
mortgage. He would have paid every cent if he could, and if he had it
would have all gone into the bank for the benefit of his womenfolk, who
have had a hard time mostly."

He seemed to have forgotten Betsey's presence, for he went on:

"I want you to give them to Betsey. Jacob needn't hear of them. He
might think he had some claim on them, but he hasn