e," she announced.

"Why not?" asked Joe.

"Says he's jest painted his off foot blue an' striped it with red, an'
it hain't dried yit."

"Go back," said Joe, firmly. "Tell Peggy he's in trouble, and it's
likely to cost him more than a new coat of paint for his foot if he
doesn't come here at once."

Kate went back, and in due time the stump of McNutt's foot was heard on
the stairs. He entered the room looking worried and suspicious, and the
stern faces of Ethel and Joe did not reassure him, by any means. But he
tried to disarm the pending accusation with his usual brazen
impertinence.

"Nice time ter send fer me, this is, Joe," he grumbled. "It's gittin' so
a feller can't even paint his foot in peace an' quiet."

"Peggy," said Joe, "when I went away, three years ago, I gave you a
letter for Miss Ethel. What did you do with it?"

Peggy's bulging eyes stared at his blue foot, which he turned first one
side and then the other to examine the red stripes.

"It's this way, Joe," he replied; "there wa'n't no postige stamp on the
letter, an' Sam Cotting said it couldn't be posted no way 'thout
a stamp."

"It wasn't to be sent through the post-office," said the boy. "I gave
you a quarter to deliver it in person to Miss Ethel."

"Did ye, Joe? did ye?"

"Of course I did."

"Cur'ous," said McNutt, leaning over to touch the foot cautiously with
one finger, to see if the paint was dry.

"Well, sir!"

"Well, Joe, there's no use gittin' mad 'bout it. Thet blamed quarter ye
giv me rolled down a crack in the stoop, an' got lost. Sure. Got lost as
easy as anything."

"Well, what was that to me?"

"Oh, I ain't blamin' you," said Peggy; "but 'twere a good deal to me, I
kin tell ye. A whole quarter lost!"

"Why didn't you take up a board, and get it again?"

"Oh, I did," said McNutt. cheerfully. "I did, Joe. But the money was all
black an' tarnished like, by thet time, an' didn't look at all like
silver. Sam he wouldn't take it at the store, so my ol' woman she 'lowed
she'd polish it up a bit. Ye know how sort o' vig'rous she is, Joe. She
polished that blamed quarter the same way she jaws an' sweeps; she
polished it 'til she rubbed both sides smooth as glass, an' then Sam
wouldn't take it, nuther, 'n' said it wasn't money any more. So I
drilled two holes in it an' sewed it on my pants fer a 'spender butt'n."

"But why didn't you deliver the letter?"

"Did ye 'spect I'd tramp way t' Thompson's Crossing fer nuthin'?"