d. She was deeply
moved. "My dear, brave child," she said, kissing Hilda warmly, "to think
of your facing that great villain and driving him away! The courage of
you! Though to be sure, any one could see it in your eyes, and your
father a soldier so many of his days too."

"Oh! it was not I who frightened him," said honest Hilda, "it was the
old pistol." But Nurse Lucy only shook her head and kissed her again.
The thought of Simon's ingratitude and treachery next absorbed her mind,
and tears of anger stood in her kind blue eyes.

"It was a black day for my poor man," she said, "when he brought that
fellow to the house. I mistrusted him from the first look at his sulky
face. A man who can't look you in the eyes,--well, there! that's my
opinion of him!"

"Why did the farmer bring him here?" asked Hilda. "I have often
wondered."

"Why, 'tis a long story, my dear," said Nurse Lucy, smoothing her apron
and preparing for a comfortable chat ("For," she said, "Simon will not
dare to stir from his room, even if he could get out, which he can't.").
"Of all his brothers, my husband loved his brother Simon best. He was a
handsome, clever fellow, Simon was. Don't you remember, my dear, Farmer
speaking of him one day when you first came here, and telling how he
wanted to be a gentleman; and I turned the talk when you asked what
became of him?" Hilda nodded assent "Well," Nurse Lucy continued, "that
was because no good came of him, and I knew it vexed Farmer to think on
it, let alone Simon's son being there. It was all through his wanting to
be a gentleman that Simon got into bad ways. Making friends with people
who had money, he got to thinking he must have it, or must make believe
he had it; so he spent all he had, and then--oh, dear!--he forged his
father's name, and the farm had to be mortgaged to get him out of
prison; and then he took to drinking, and went from bad to worse, and
finally died in misery and wretchedness. Dear, dear! it almost broke
Jacob's heart, that it did. He had tried, if ever man tried, to save his
brother; but 'twas of no use. It seemed as if he was _bound_ to ruin
himself, and nothing could stop him. When he died, his wife (he married
her, thinking she had money, and it turned out she hadn't a penny) took
the child and went back to her own people, and we heard nothing more
till about two years ago, when this boy came to Jacob with a letter from
his mother's folks. She was dead, and they said _they_ coul