got all you want, and eggs
enough for market. On second thoughts, I don't know whether you hadn't
better begin with eggs first. That is, you borry some eggs from one
man and a hen from another. Then you set 'em, and when the chickens are
hatched out you just return the hen to the second man, and the eggs,
when your chickens begin to lay, to the first man, and you've got your
chickens for nothing--and there you are."

This ingenious proposition, which was delivered on the last slope of
the domain, where the partners were lying exhausted from their work, was
broken in upon by the appearance of a small boy, barefooted, sunburnt,
and tow-headed, who, after a moment's hurried scrutiny of the group,
threw a letter with unerring precision into the lap of Jackson Wells,
and then fled precipitately. Jackson instinctively suspected he was
connected with the outrage on his fence and gate-post, but as he had
avoided telling his partners of the incident, fearing to increase their
belligerent attitude, he felt now an awkward consciousness mingled with
his indignation as he broke the seal and read as follows:--

SIR,--This is to inform you that although you have got hold of the
property by underhanded and sneaking ways, you ain't no right to touch
or lay your vile hands on the Cherokee Rose alongside the house, nor on
the Giant of Battles, nor on the Maiden's Pride by the gate--the same
being the property of Miss Jocelinda Wells, and planted by her, under
the penalty of the Law. And if you, or any of your gang of ruffians,
touches it or them, or any thereof, or don't deliver it up when called
for in good order, you will be persecuted by them.

AVENGER.

It is to be feared that Jackson would have suppressed this also, but the
keen eyes of his partners, excited by the abruptness of the messenger,
were upon him. He smiled feebly, and laid the letter before them. But
he was unprepared for their exaggerated indignation, and with difficulty
restrained them from dashing off in the direction of the vanished
herald. "And what could you do?" he said. "The boy's only a messenger."

"I'll get at that d----d skunk Brown, who's back of him," said Dexter
Rice.

"And what then?" persisted Jackson, with a certain show of independence.
"If this stuff belongs to the girl, I'm not certain I shan't give them
up without any fuss. Lord! I want nothing but what the old man left
me--and certainly nothing of HERS."

Here Ned Wyngate was heard to mu