t."

"You hain't seen _her_, of course," observed Mrs. Sprowl, mysteriously.

"Her? who?"

"Salina!" in a whisper, as if to be overheard by a mouse in the wall
would have been fatal.

"Wal, I have seen _her_, I reckon! Not an hour ago. By appointment. I
wrote her I was coming, got a woman to direct the letter, and had a long
talk with her to-night. What I want just now is, a little money, and
she's got to raise it for me, and what she can't raise I shall look to
you for."

"O dear me! don't say money to me!" exclaimed the widow, alarmed.
"Partic'larly now I've lost my best feather-bed and my boarder!"

"What is it about your boarder? Out with it, and stop this hinting
around!"

Thus prompted, Mrs. Sprowl, who had indeed been waiting for the
opportunity, related all she knew of what had happened to Penn. Lysander
kindled up with interest as she proceeded, and finally broke forth with
a startling oath.

"And I can tell you where he has gone!" he said. "He's gone to the house
I can't get into for love nor money! She refused me admission
to-night--refused me money! but he is taken in, and their money will be
lavished on him!"

"But how do you know, my son,----"

"How do I know he's there? Because, when I was with her in the orchard,
we saw an object--she said it was some old nigger to see Toby--go into
the kitchen. Then in a little while a man--it must have been Stackridge,
if you say he was looking for him--went in with Carl, and didn't come
out again, as I could see. I staid till the light from the kitchen went
up into the bedroom, in the corner of the house this way. There's yer
boarder, mar, I'll bet my life! But he won't be there long, I can tell
ye!" laughed Lysander, maliciously.

IX.

_TOBY'S PATIENT HAS A CALLER._

Mr. Bythewood had now taken his departure; Salina had been intrusted
with the secret; and Penn had been put to bed (as the rover correctly
surmised) in the corner bedchamber.

He had been diligently plucked; as much of the tar had been removed as
could be easily taken off by methods known to Stackridge and Toby, and
his wounds had been dressed. And there he lay, at last, in the soothing
linen, exhausted and suffering, yet somehow happy, thinking with
gratitude of the friends God had given him in his sore need.

"Bress your heart, dear young massa!" said old Toby, standing by the bed
(for he would not sit down), and regarding him with an unlimited variety
of winks, and nods, a