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Billy put the basket down again. "Say, what did she want with all that hoarhound candy?" he asked curiously. "When does the Minorca sail?" So with the bird perched on his shoulders, muttering a strange jargon of endearments and throaty chuckles in his ear, Billy turned up the path, thinking still of a pair of blue eyes and a voice that had called him "Billy.".

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So the deacon went thoughtfully on his way to Wilson's. He found Tom Wilson breakfasting alone. To the deacon's look of surprise his neighbor vouchsafed the information that a glad and glorious band of young people had been "cuttin' up" nearly all night there, and the boys and Ma were sleepin' in, like. "Erie out in her boat?" he asked, casually. "I don't hear her voice, or her whistle." "Well," laughed Wilson, "if anybody kin make Joe toe the scratch it's you, Deacon. Didn't see anythin' of Hinter on your rounds, did you?" "He'll never find the Scroggie will," he would speak again. "He'll always be poor.".