what that tale might be;
how often before she had examined every one of those mute tokens; how
many times gazed with moist eyes at the faces in the locket; and how, as
the years bearing her onward toward maturity passed, had she hoped and
waited, hoping ever that some word, some whisper from that far-off land
of her birth might reach her! But none ever came, and now hope was dead.

And as she looked at those mute relics which told so little and yet so
much of her history, while the old man who had been all that a kind
father could be to her took them out one by one, she realized more than
ever before what a debt of gratitude she owed to him. When he had looked
them over and put them back in the exact order in which they had been
packed, he closed the box, and taking the little hand that had been
caressing his face in his own wrinkled and bony one, held it for a
moment. When he released it the girl stooped, and pressing her lips to
his weather-browned cheek, arose and resumed her seat. Had observant
eyes watched her then, they would have noticed that hers remained closed
for a few moments and that two tears glistened there.

"Wal, ye better put the box away now," said Uncle Terry at last. "I'll
jest go out an' take a look off'n the pint and then it'll be time to
turn in."

CHAPTER XIV

A LEGALIZED PICKPOCKET

"I've got ter go ter Boston," said Uncle Terry to his wife a few days
later. "Thar's some money due us that we ain't sartin we'll git. You an'
Telly can tend the lights for a couple o' nights, can't ye? I won't be
gone more'n that. Bascom's to take me up to the head, an' if the boat's
runnin' I'll be all right."

This plan had cost Uncle Terry a good deal of diplomacy. Not only did he
have to invent a reasonable excuse for going by exciting the fears of
both Bascom and Oaks regarding money really due them, but he had to
allay the curiosity of his wife and Telly as well. In a small village
like the Cape every one's movements were well known to all and commented
on, and no one was better aware of it than Uncle Terry. But go to Boston
he must, and to do so right in the dead of winter, when to take such a
trip was an unheard-of thing, and not excite a small tempest of curious
gossip, taxed his Yankee wit.

At Bath he had a few hours' wait, and went to the bank and drew a
sizable sum of money from his small savings.

"Lawyers are sech sharps, consarn 'em!" he said to himself, "I'd better
go loaded. Most