drive, as he left the
causeway, built across a wide stretch of salt-marsh, crossed the
rattling plank bridge and ascended the hill, he saw a light in the
cottage window, where he had often been to attend Aunt Lois. "I will
stop now," said he. And, tying his horse to the front fence, he went
toward the kitchen door. As he passed the window, he glanced in. A lamp
was burning on the table. On a settle, lying upon his face, was
stretched the convict, his arms beneath his head. The canvas bag lay on
the floor beside him. "I will not disturb him now," said the doctor.

A few days later Dr. Burt was driving in his sleigh with his wife along
the Salt Hay Road. It was a clear, crisp winter forenoon. As they neared
Eph's house, he said:

"Mary, suppose I lay siege to the fort this morning. I see a curl of
smoke rising from the little shop in the barn. He must be making himself
a jimmy or a dark-lantern to break into our vegetable cellar with."

"Well," said she, "I think it would be a good plan; only, you know, you
must be very, very careful not to hint, even in the faintest way, at his
imprisonment. You mustn't so much as _suspect_ that he has ever been
away from the place. People hardly dare to speak to him, for fear he
will see some reference to his having been in prison, and get angry."

"You shall see my sly tact," said her husband, laughing. "I will be as
innocent as a lamb. I will ask him why I have not seen him at the
Sabbath-school this winter."

"You may make fun," said she, "but you will end by taking my advice,
all the same. Now, do be careful what you say."

"I will," he replied. "I will compose my remarks carefully upon the back
of an envelope and read them to him, so as to be absolutely sure. I will
leave on his mind an impression that I have been in prison, and that he
was the judge that tried me."

He drove in at the open gate, hitched his horse in a warm corner by the
kitchen door, and then stopped for a moment to enjoy the view. The
situation of the little house, half a mile from any other, was beautiful
in summer, but it was bleak enough in winter. In the small front
dooryard stood three lofty, wind-blown poplars, all heading away from
the sea, and between them you could look down the bay or across the
salt-marshes, while in the opposite direction were to be seen the roofs
and the glittering spires of the village.

"It is social for him here, to say the least," said the doctor, as he
turned and walke