than insult!" cried Mrs. Nelson, stung
deeply by his insinuation.

"I am only dealing in facts, madam. I called here to-night to help you keep
clear from trouble."

"You are not helping me now," she replied, cuttingly.

At that moment a merry whistle was heard outside, and a light step ascended
the back stoop.

"There is Ralph; I will let him in," said Mrs. Nelson, and she left the
parlor.

"Squire Paget is here," she said to the boy as he entered the kitchen and
deposited a basketful of groceries on the table.

"Squire Paget! What does he want?"

"Come in and see," rejoined Mrs. Nelson, and she led the way into the best
room.

"Good-evening, sir," said Ralph, respectfully, but with no degree of
warmth.

"We have been waiting for you, young man," said the squire, without
returning the salutation.

"What is it you want of me?"

"He came about that post office affair," put in Mrs. Nelson. "He declares
that you are one of the guilty parties."

Instantly Ralph's eyes flashed dangerously. He felt under no obligations to
the squire, rich as he was, to swallow any insult.

"So you think I am guilty?" he said, as calmly as he could.

"Yes, I do," returned the great man, bluntly.

"What makes you think so?"

"Because you were around the post office," said Mrs. Nelson. "He even
insinuates that my sickness was not real, but was put on so that you might
have an excuse for being out at that time of night."

Again Ralph's eyes flashed. It was bad enough to have insults heaped upon
his own head, but when they touched his mother----

"Squire Paget, you are no gentleman!" he burst out. "You haven't the least
spark of a gentleman in your whole composition!"

"Wha--what----" stammered the village dignitary.

"Oh, Ralph----" began his mother.

"Hush, mother, I will handle him as he deserves. Let me alone."

"You young rascal! What do you mean?" burst out the squire, in a rage.

"I mean just what I say. You may be rich and influential, but you can't
come here and insult my mother, understand that!"

"Why--why, you young vagabond----" spluttered the squire.

For the moment he could not find words to express himself.

"I am no vagabond, Squire Paget, not half as much a one as your son, who
drinks, smokes cigarettes, and keeps company with all sorts of questionable
village sports."

"Stop! stop!" roared the great man. "How dare you speak to me in this
fashion?"

"How dare you insult my mother? If I had an o