said Mr. Wright
as he gave me his hand. "You may look for me here soon after the close
of the session. Take care of yourself and go often to see Mrs. Wright
and obey your captain and remember me to your aunt and uncle."

"See that you keep coming, my good boy," said the President as he gave
me his hand, with playful reference, no doubt, to Mr. Wright's remark
that I was a coming man.

"Bart, I've some wheat to be threshed in the barn on the back lot," said
the Senator as I was leaving them. "You can do it Saturdays, if you care
to, at a shilling an hour. Stack the straw out-of-doors until you've
finished then put it back in the bay. Winnow the wheat carefully and
sack it and bring it down to the granary and I'll settle with you when I
return."

I remember that a number of men who worked in Grimshaw's saw-mill were
passing as he spoke.

"Yes, sir," I answered, much elated by the prospect of earning money.

I left with a feeling of keen disappointment that I was to see so little
of my distinguished friend and a thought of the imperious errands of men
which put the broad reaches of the earth between friend and friend.

I remember repeating to myself the words of the Senator which began:
"You may look for me here soon after the close of the session," in the
tone in which he had said them. As of old, I admired and tried to
imitate his dignity of speech and bearing.

When I returned from the mill they were gone.

The examination of Amos was set down for Monday and the people of the
village were stirred and shaken by wildest rumors regarding the evidence
to be adduced. Every day men and women stopped me in the Street to ask
what I knew of the murder. I followed the advice of Bishop Perkins and
kept my knowledge to myself.

My life went on at the same kindly, merry pace in the home of the
schoolmaster. The bandages over his eyes had in no way clouded his
spirit.

"Ah, now, I wish that I could see you," he said one evening when we were
all laughing at some remark of his. "I love the look of a merry face."

I continued to wear the mysterious clothes of Michael Henry, save at
chore time, when I put on the spotted suit of homespun. I observed that
it made a great difference with my social standing. I was treated with a
greater deference at the school, and Elizabeth Allen invited me to her
party, to which, however, I had not the courage to go, having no idea
what happened to one at a village party.

I asked a boy in