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"Yes," he answered. "I told him that same day. Told him that you said you could never be more to him than what you now are. Why do you ask, Erie?" Softly the last note died, and then the player emerged from the grove. He was little and bent. He wore a ragged suit of corduroys and a battered felt hat with a red feather stuck jauntily in its band. His face was small, dark, and unshaven. In one grimy hand he carried a small demijohn. Arriving opposite Caleb, he lifted his battered hat and bowed low as a courtier would do. Billy tried to say something. His lips moved dumbly. Moisture gathered between his shoulder blades, condensed as it met cold fear, and trickled in tiny rivulets down his shivering spine..

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"Your Ma says you kin come," said Mrs. Wilson, "Providin' I don't let you near the cookie jar, and see that Anson brings you back safe." It was April, and some birds were in song; the sun shone brightly, and the breeze blowing from the sea sang pleasantly amongst the trees whose boughs were studded with little buds. The lane conducted Lucy to the valley where the river was, and here she stepped upon an old bridge. When half-way across she stopped to look in the direction of Old Harbour. The river flowed prettily under this bridge and melted its brilliance in the waters of the Harbour, where, when the tide was at lowest[Pg 26] ebb, it always had a bed for its discharge into the brine beyond. "But Harry, don't you see, that stuff belongs to Caleb Spencer. The thieves must have hid it there, in the ha'nted house." Billy's grey eyes grew big with realization and a long sigh escaped his lips. He bent above the coon, who had sprawled in the dust, all four feet in the air, inviting a tussle. The girl saw something glitter and splash on the dark fur and her throat tightened. "Oh Billy, Billy," she choked, and with all the abandon of her nature stooped and gathered boy and animal close to her..