nth, while a comfortable house
like that of the Widow Harrington rents for fifteen dollars, with good,
solid furniture."

"Is Mrs. Harrington's house for rent?" he asked.

"Yes. She'll go to live with her married daughter as soon as she can
find a tenant. The poor creature needs the money, and her house is just
around the corner from here and her back yard backs up to the Colonel's
back yard. Now, the Pelton place is two blocks from here, and the
Peltons don't need the money, because they're already too rich and
aristocratic to live in Dorfield any longer."

"H-m-m!" murmured Mr. Conant. "It occurs to me that a friend of Colonel
Hathaway might desire a more luxurious home than that of the Widow
Harrington."

"Doesn't the telegram say 'a modest price'?"

"It does. I'll quote both places and let the man Jones take his choice.
And how about the female servant, Hannah?"

"Leave that to me; I can hire plenty. But if Mr. Jason Jones takes the
Pelton place he will want one kind of a servant, and if he takes Mrs.
Harrington's house he'll want a different sort."

He gazed at her admiringly and passed his cup again, saying:

"You've a logical mind, my dear. Had you been a man you might have
become a fairly good lawyer."

"No, Peter; not another drop. You've two cups already."

"Are you sure, Hannah?"

"Absolutely positive!"

"Then," said he, rising with a sigh, "I'll go to the office."

To Mr. Conant's disappointment, to Mrs. Conant's delight, to Irene's
satisfaction and the astonishment of all, Mr. Jason Jones selected Mrs.
Harrington's modest house and ordered it rented and prepared for his
arrival on the following Thursday. This was conveyed in a second
telegram from Colonel Hathaway, who requested the lawyer to inform old
Uncle Eben and Aunt Sally, the Colonel's own faithful colored servants
and caretakers, that he and Mary Louise would return home on the same
day.

"You see," said Aunt Hannah, triumphantly, "I sized the Joneses up
pretty well. It isn't necessary for a man to be rich to be a friend of
the dear Colonel, for he considers a man, rather than a man's
pocketbook."

"Yet a man who can afford to travel abroad, with his daughter," began
Mr. Conant, argumentatively, "should certainly be able and willing----"

"What do you know about him, Peter? Perhaps he has spent his ready
money in Europe and is now obliged to economize. Unless that is the
case, why does he come to a sleepy little town like Dorfi