ad, a cheap pine
table and one broken-legged chair. Indeed, the main building, which I
have briefly described, had not been in use for many years. Sometimes,
when Captain Wegg was alive, he would build a log fire in the great
fireplace on a winter's evening and sit before it in silent mood until
far into the night. And once, when his young wife had first occupied the
new house, the big room had acquired a fairly cosy and comfortable
appearance. But it had always been sparsely furnished, and most of the
decadent furniture that now littered it was useless and unlovely.

The big wooden lean-to at the back, and the right wing, were at this
time the only really habitable parts of the mansion. The lean-to had an
entrance from the living room, but Old Hucks and Nora his wife used the
back door entirely. It consisted of a large and cheerful kitchen and two
rooms off it, one used as a store room and the other as a sleeping
chamber for the aged couple.

The right wing was also constructed of cobble-stone, and had formerly
been Captain Wegg's own chamber. After his death his only child, Joe,
then a boy of sixteen, had taken possession of his father's room; but
after a day or two he had suddenly quitted the house where he was born
and plunged into the great outside world--to seek his fortune, it was
said. Decidedly there was no future for the boy here; in the cities
lurks opportunity.

When Ethel Thompson arrived in the early morning that followed her
interview with McNutt she rode her pony through the gap in the rail
fence, across the June grass, and around to the back door. On a bench
beside the pump an old woman sat shelling peas. Her form was thin but
erect and her hair snowy white. She moved with alertness, and as the
girl dismounted and approached her she raised her head and turned a
pleasant face with deep-set, sightless gray eyes upon her visitor.

"Good morning, Ethel, dear," she said. "I knew the pony's whinney.
You're up early today."

"Good morning, Nora," responded the schoolteacher, advancing to kiss the
withered cheek. "Are you pretty well?"

"In body, dear. In mind both Tom 'n' me's pretty bad. I s'pose we
couldn't 'a 'spected to stay here in peace forever; but the blow's come
suddin-like, an' it hurts us."

"Where is Tom?"

"In the barn, lookin' over all the won'erful things the rich nabob has
sent here. He says most things has strips o' wood nailed over 'em; but
some hasn't; an' Tom looks 'em over keerfu