r-room over Sudleigh
court-house. So, when I was fixin' up the court-house clock, t' other
day, I clim' up to that room, an' shet myself in there. An', Mary, I
found them rec'ids!" He looked at her with that complete and
awe-stricken triumph which nobody else had ever seen upon his face. Her
own reflected it.

"Where are they, gran'ther?" asked Mary. But she was the more excited;
she could only whisper.

"They're loose sheets o' paper," returned Nicholas, "an' _they're in my
bag_!"

Mary made an involuntary movement toward the bag, which lay, innocently
secretive, on a neighboring chair. Even its advertising legend had a
knowing look. Nicholas followed her glance.

"No," said he firmly, "not now. We'll read 'em all over this evenin',
when I've done the dishes. But, Mary, I'll tell ye this much: it's got
the whole story of the settlers comin' into town, an' which way they
come, an' all about it, writ down by Simeon Gerry, the fust minister,
the one that killed five Injuns, stoppin' to load an' fire, an' then
opened on the rest with bilin' fat. An', Mary, the fust settler of all
was Nicholas Oldfield, haulin' his wife on a kind of a drag made o'
withes; an' the path they took led straight over our Flat-Iron Lot. An',
Mary, 't was there they rested, an' offered up prayer to God."

"O my soul, gran'ther!" breathed Mary, clasping her little brown hands.
"O my soul!" Her face grew curiously mature. It seemed to mirror his.
She leaned forward, in a deadly earnestness. "Gran'ther," said she, "did
they settle here first? Or--or was it Sudleigh?"

Now, indeed, was Nicholas Oldfield the herald of news good both to tell
and hear.

"The fust settlement," said he, as if he read it from the book of fate,
"was made in Tiverton, on the sixteenth day of the month; the second in
Sudleigh, on the twenty-fifth."

"So, when you guessed at the date, and told parson to have the
celebration then, you got it right?"

"I got it right," replied Nicholas quietly. "But pa'son shall see the
rec'ids, an' I'll recommend him to put 'em under lock an' key."

The two sat there and looked at each other, with an outwelling of great
content. Then Mary passed her mug, and while Nicholas filled it, he gave
her an oft-repeated charge:--

"Don't you open your head now, Mary. All this is between you an' me.
I'll just mention it to pa'son, an' make up my mind whether he sees the
meanin' on 't. But don't you say one word to your father an' mother. To