bit of
assistance to a neighbor."

"Oh! Then McNutt got it, did he?"

"I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Merrick. I told Peggy I would not accept
payment."

"H-m. Never mind. We're not going to quarrel, little neighbor. May I
hitch Joe to the surrey?"

"If you like. I'll help you."

Uncle John led Joe from his stall and together they harnessed the horse
to the surrey. The girl knew better than the man how to buckle the
straps properly, while Louise stood by helplessly and watched the
performance.

Then Uncle John went for old Dan, whom he led, rickety buggy and all,
into the Thompson stable.

"I'll send Hucks over to get him, although we might as well knock him in
the head," he said as he unharnessed the ancient steed. "Now then,
Louise, hop in."

"You'll be sure to come over Thursday, for the day, Miss Thompson?"
asked Louise, taking Joe's reins from her uncle's hands.

"I'll not forget such a delightful engagement, be sure."

Uncle John had his pocketbook out, and now he wadded up some bills and
thrust them into the little school teacher's hand.

"Drive ahead, Louise," he called. "Good morning, my dear. See you on
Thursday."

As the vehicle rolled out of the yard and turned into the highway, Ethel
unrolled the bills with trembling fingers.

"If he has dared--!" she began, but paused abruptly with a smile of
content.

The rich man had given her exactly one hundred dollars.

CHAPTER IX.

THE LIVES OF THE SAINTS.

On Wednesday afternoon McNutt drove the sad-eyed sorrel mare over to the
Wegg farm again. He had been racking his brain for a way to get more
money out of the nabob, for the idea had become a veritable passion with
him and now occupied all his thoughts.

That very morning an inspiration had come to him. Among other
occupations he had at one time adopted that of a book-agent, and by dint
of persistent energy had sold numerous copies of "Radford's Lives of the
Saints" to the surrounding farmers. They had cost him ninety cents a
copy and he had sold them at three dollars each, netting a fine profit
in return for his labor. The books were printed upon cheap paper,
fearfully illustrated with blurred cuts, but the covers were bound in
bright red with gold lettering. Through misunderstandings three of these
copies had come back to him, the subscribers refusing to accept them;
and so thorough had been his canvassing that there remained no other
available customers for the saintly works. So Peggy had