"just what you were going to do, in the first
place."

"What! Marry JEFFRY MAULBOY?"

The lawyer nodded.

"But it's too late now. He wouldn't come."

"Try it," was the lawyer's answer. "_Urge_ him," he added,
significantly.

The woman who hesitates is lost. ANN hesitated, but she wasn't lost. No;
she rather thought she was found.

"I'll do it, old boy," she finally said, "if I can find him, high or
low. See here, if you don't hear from me, come here day after
to-morrow--will you--and bring DIGBY with you?"

The lawyer promised, and took his departure.

ANN immediately wrote a letter, sealed and directed it to JEFFRY
MAULBOY, and rung for TEDDY.

"Do you know of a man named JEFFRY MAULBOY?" said she.

TEDDY opened his eyes very wide.

"What, the Prize-Fighter?" said he. "It's a jokin' ye are; fur how could
ye ask that same, afther I see him giv' TIM MCGONIGLE sich an illegant
knock-down with me own eyes, at the torchlight procession in the fall of
the winter? And JIM, with a shlit in his ear as was bewtifool to look
at, jumps up, and says he----"

He paused, for tears stood in ANN'S eyes. The reminiscence was too much
for her overcharged soul.

"Yes," she murmured. "He was always just such a lovely brick, was JEFF."
Then she added, with an effort: "I want you to take this letter to him
the first thing in the morning. Go to Mrs. LADLE'S first, and if he
ain't there--Do you know where his folks live?"

"I do that. It's a lawyer his father is, and lives at Western Bend. I'll
find him, mum, sure."

"Do it," said ANN, "and I'll find _you_ for a month."

TEDDY took the letter and retired to his room.

"To JIFFRY MAULBOY the Prize-Fighter," said he, patting it lovingly.
"Well-a-day! Who'd a thought it now? _Here's_ somethin to be proud of.
_Here's_ somethin to boast of like, a settin' at the fireside, mebbe,
with me little ansisters upon me knees. 'And it's meself, me little
ducks,' I'd say, 'as carried a letther, with me _own hands_, to the
great JIFFRY MAULBOY, as wiped out PATSY MCFADDEN in a fair shtand-up
fight, and giv' TIM MCGONIGLE a private mark as he carried to his
grave.' I wonder what's in it?" he continued, holding it up to the
light. "Divil a word now can I see. That's illaygil, and shows there's
mischief brewin'. Now what would an unconvarted haythen do as hadn't the
moril welfare of the community a layin' close to his heart like? Carry
the letther, and ax no questions. But what would an a