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"And fer why should I tell Spencer, thin?" Harry asked, his blood-shot eyes wide in wonder. "Nobuddy told me where to find ut, did they?",

"Come Croaker," pleaded Maurice again. But the crow was obdurate. It is barely possible that he failed to recognize Maurice owing to the sick boy's altered looks or perhaps he expected a glimpse of the reward which was always his for the performing of a service. With one backward look from his bright eyes, he spread his short wings and sailed across to Mrs. Keeler, settling on her shoulder with a harsh croak, whereat that greatly-startled lady sat down on the gravel, her lap full of dirty water and potatoes.,

"Only one thing to do," reasoned Billy, "take what we want an' let the rest go.",

Ringold hung his hat on the stovepoker and got down to business at once. "Say, Tom, I've had an offer for my back hundred. Don' know whether to sell or not. Thought I'd like to hear what you'd advise."

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He found his father, mother and Anson seated at the breakfast table and as he took his place he was conscious of a foreboding of impending storm. The conviction was strengthened when his father's foot, reaching sympathetically underneath the table, touched his ever so gently. With perfect sangfroid he speared a strip of bacon with his fork and held his breath as he waited for the worst. Two taps of that foot meant "On your guard," three taps "Watch out for dodging.",

And then Caleb Spencer had built his store and with far-seeing judgment had stocked it with nearly every variety of goods a growing community needs. Drygoods, Groceries, Hardware & Liquors! These comprehensive words, painted on a huge sign, stared out at all who passed along the road and in still more glaring letters beneath was the announcement, "Caleb Spencer, Proprietor.",

Mr Lawrence pursued the same road home by which he had gained Old Harbour. In all probability had Mr Greyquill not looked back, the young gentleman would have found his letter where he had unconsciously dropped it. That side of the bridge—the up-river water path—was much unfrequented, save on a Sunday, when lovers walked along it, and now and again a little family dressed in their best. It was many chances to one that the two or three who had passed along that path since Mr Lawrence and Mr Greyquill had stood in conversation upon it, would have[Pg 146] picked up the letter or even taken notice of it, so very remote from their ideas of things worth stopping for and examining on the highway was a folded sheet of paper.,

"And found me, Frank?"