his leg for emphasis. "I'll
strike him fer a cool fifty, an' if the feller don't pay he kin go to
blazes. Them's my sentiments, boys, an' I'll stand by 'em!"

The others regarded him admiringly, so the energetic little man stumped
away to indite his characteristic letter to Major Doyle.

If the first communication had startled the little village, the second
fairly plunged it into a panic of excitement. Peggy's hand trembled as
he held out the five hundred dollar draft and glared from it to his
cronies with a white face.

"Suff'rin' Jehu!" gasped Nick Thorne. "Is it good?"

The paper was passed reverently around, and examined with a succession
of dubious head-shakes.

"Send for Bob West," suggested Cotting. "He's seen more o' that sort o'
money than any of us."

The widow Clarke's boy, who was present, ran breathlessly to fetch the
hardware dealer, who answered the summons when he learned that Peggy
McNutt had received a "check" for five hundred dollars.

West was a tall, lean man with shrewd eyes covered by horn spectacles
and a stubby gray mustache. He was the potentate of the town and reputed
to be worth, at a conservative estimate, in the neighborhood of ten
thousand dollars--"er more, fer that matter; fer Bob ain't tellin' his
business to nobody." Hardware and implements were acknowledged to be
paying merchandise, and West lent money on farm mortgages, besides. He
was a quiet man, had a good library in his comfortable rooms over the
store, and took the only New York paper that found its way into
Millville. After a glance at the remittance he said:

"It's a draft on Isham, Marvin & Company, the New York bankers. Good as
gold, McNutt. Where did you get it?"

"A lunitic named John Merrick, him that's bought the Cap'n Wegg farm,
sent it on. Here's his letter, Bob."

The hardware dealer read it carefully and gave a low whistle.

"There may be more than one John Merrick," he said, thoughtfully. "But
I've heard of one who is many times a millionaire and a power in the
financial world. What will you do for him, McNutt, to expend this money
properly?"

"Bless't if I know!" answered the man, his eyes bulging with a helpless
look. "What 'n thunder _kin_ I do, Bob?"

West smiled.

"I don't wish to interfere in business matters," said he, "but it is
plainly evident that the new owner wishes the farm house put into such
shape that it will be comfortable for a man accustomed to modern
luxuries. You don't know mu