The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1887-07-30 00:00:00

POTATO.

There was a modErate supply of potatoes on sale. The
trade was dull, It the annexed rates: Essex kidneys,
7s to 88 per cwt; Essex shows, 6s to 8s ; early roses, .54 to
es ; Jersey kidneys, 8s to 9s ; Cherbourg kidney, 83 to 9s ;
Cherbourg round. 6s &I to 7s Bd.

SATURDAY, JULY 30, 187.

NOBLER THAN REVENGE.

BY THB
Author of" The Heiress of Allserstos. frame'

CHAPTER XIII:

BARNEY GRUBB.
'Cheer your hearts,
And let determined things to destiny
Hold onbewailed their way.—SBAKEsPEARE.
'OLD ncres got a finger in this pie; it couldn't have
got cooked else.'
It was Barney Grubb who spoke, sitting alone in
the Ft rry flouse, with an open letter in his hand.
Ragged Jack was amusing himself outside on the bank
of the river, trying to rig up a shelter for a disabled
• old crow which he had rescued from a dog that morn-
ing, and proposed to nurse back to health and
ttrength by some infallible process of his own.
Who told anyone about here that I'd got a mother,
and where she lived, I wonder? /didn't.'

Barney had been at the Hill Ford for a long time
now, and no one had ever found out where he came
from, or whether he had any relations. He could talk
all dialects equally well, and it was easy to fancy him
Yorkshireman one day and a Cornishman the next,
so polyglot was he in his speech; and it was his
delight to mystify anyone who fancied they had
taught him speaking his mother tongue, as it were, by
going off into something so exactly opposite that it
was impossible to come to any decision.
He had a mother who loved him very dearly, and
she lived in Herefordshire, a good distance from Hill-
ford. He went to see her now and then, though even
she did not know, for reasons of his own, where her
son lived. She was ill, so this letter said—very ill;
and if Barney wanted to see her again he had better
come at once. She might get better, but the chances
were against it, and he had better reach Bullingham
within the next two days, if possible.
The letter was in a woman's hand, clear and careful,
as if the writer knew the difficulty there would be in
reading it, and, indeed, it had taken Barney and his
ally, Bagged Jack, a long time to make out what it
was all about; but they had arrived at a pretty
accurate conclusion at last. It was signed Sarah
Kiri pp,' and seemed to have been written by a person
in his mother's own rank of life.
There used to be " Knapps" about there,' Barney
said, when he had made out the letter, with the boy's
help. I suppose it's someone who is with the old
lady.
'Your mother, Barney?' asked the boy, bursting
with curiosity.
s, my mother, young one.'
I didn't know you had one.'
'Well, you know it now. And, look here, Jack.'

'Well; Barney.'
'lf ever I hcar that you have said a word about this
letter, or hint that you know anything about it, I'll
kill you mind that.'
'But they know you have had a-Jetter at the post.
office.' _ _ .

......,,,,.
'They don't know what's in it. It's an awkward
business.'

'Shall you go, Barney?

Yes.'
Who's to mind the ford ?' and Jack looked as if he
were quite ready to undertake the boats and the busi-
ness, and set up at once in his friend's place.
That's just it. I don't know. If I let that limp-
ing Bill in here, I shall never get him out again, I
know that well enough. I must get your father, Jack.'
Father would come,' the boy said. He hasn't got
any work, now; but he wouldn't do it for nothing.'
Not to have any work was the normal condition of
Jack's father, who preferred seeing other people attend
to the duties of this life, while he lounged against a
wall, and waited for the jobs that brisker men picked
up.
I'll pay him,' Barney said; he needn't be afraid of
that, and there's plenty lf grub in the house; he won't
starve.' _ _

So Barney took a walk into the town to enquire how
he could get into Herefordshire, or rather on the first
stage thither, for it was none of his purpose to let
people know where he was going, and to interview
Jack's father about taking his place while he was away.
Having accomplished both purposes, and discovered
that he could not get away till the next morning, he
went back to his hut, musing on the letter he had
received, and wondering more than ever how anyone
had found him out in his seclusion. Someone who
had seen him before must have passed over the river
in his beat and told of h;s whereabouts, and so it
had come to his mother's ears.
'lt's all as well, perhaps,' he said to himself. 'lf
they had not known where to write to me, how could
they have sent for me? Hullo, is that you?'
It was Jack's father, arrived early at the ferry on

the chance of there being something toothsome for

supper. Jack was apt to bring home appetising
reports of what he and Barney fed on, and though the
latter did not encourage any intimacy with the parents
of his protege, he let the boy share with him when he

. . .
was at his place.
'Yes, it's me,' the man replied. 'I thought I'd
come early and see if you wanted anything.'
'And if there was any supper.'
'Well, yes; dinners haven't been plentiful with me
_.

had

lately, an-d—'
'lt's all right. Jack will show you where to get
what you want. Eat away, you're welcome. Whistle
for me, Jack, if anyone wants the boat; I'm going
over into the woods yonder.'
He was out on the water in another minute, whist-
ling softly to himself as he pushed the boat across.
Be wanted to be alone for a little while ; his heart
was full at the thought of his mother's illness, and the
chance of her death, and he could not bear the chatter
of Jack and the droning talk of his slow, idle father.
Be walked up the path that the pic-nic party had
taken on the day that he remembered so well, and
thought of the pretty girl whom he had admired so
much, and the young fellow her future husband.
They're to be married in less than a year,' he said
to himself. Are they? Not in all their lives ; they
weren't made for each other—nor she wasn't made
for the parson, either. I've a crow to pick with that
parson, and do it some day. He was sweet and
civil enough when I met him in the street to day,
too sweet by half. "I hope you are doing well,
Barney !" and Barney laughed softly to himself
as he mimicked the Rev. Horace Gayford's dulcet
tones Doing well! He'd like to see me in the work-
house, or in the gutter, or anywhere else where a man
meets the most disgrace and the worst misfortune.
When a man like that takes the trouble to be so very
polite there's mischief brewing; and Mr. Gayford
wouldn't mind what mischief he did me, I'm thinking.
I'll be even with him if ever he tries it on; and I think
I am a match for him in most things—not in learning,
I haven't much of that, but in strength and pluck,
aye, and common sense, too, or Pm very much Mia•
taken in myself.'
He had come to the old shaft while he was com-
muning with himself, and stood leaning against the
new wooden fence that was round it. It was unsightly,
and spoiled the pretty corner that used to be so
picturesque. But it was easy to get out of sight of
it, and find lovely spots still in that corner of the
wood—not a stone's throw from the hole a party could
pic-nic without seeing an inch of hoarding; and there
was no danger now that any enthusiastic sightseer
would tumble down the dark chasm and be killed.
No danger! Even as the thought flashed into Barney's
mind, some of the boards upon which he was leaning
somewhat heavily gave way, and all but precipitated
him into the black darkness beneath him. He recovered
himself with an effort, and stood for a moment sick
and shivering at his escape. It was a workman's
oversight; the work had never been finished, the
boards had been placed and never nailed to their
supports.
It might have been someone else,' he gasped.
Some folk would never have seen the thing gh ing
way till they were going headlong down the shaft.
Whew! It has given me a facer. I feel all abroad.
I'll leave the boards down, and send Jack into the
town to speak about it.'
Looking at the boards which had given way, it seemed
to him that they had been nailed on, and had come
loose again. There were the marks of the nails, but
there were no nails left in, It was as if someone had
drawn them very carefully on purpose.
I am a fool, that's what I am,' Barney said to him-
self, I'll get away from here. I have heard of
people looking into deep places till they jump down
from the fascination of it. I shall do something stupid
if I stay here. It's an eerie place after nightfall is
Girton's Hole.'
He laid the boards down where they had fallen—at
any rate, no one should lean against them unawares—
and went back to his ferry. Jack was not there.
He had made off, not exactly caring to stay at the
ferry, while his father was officiating. It was very
pleasant when Barney was ruler. His father, with
no taste for bird hunting or natural history, and a
. great fancy for the use of the slim rod, was quite another
affair; and Jack thought, on the whole, that his
mother's society would be preferable during the time
that Barney was away. So there was 1.3 one to Bend
into the town, and Barney went away the next morn-
ing, weelout saying anything about the loose boarde
at (iirton'e Hole.
He struck across the country to a station some
half dozen miles away, reaching which world save
him a trifle, and excite no curiosity as to where he
elas go:ng. About half a mile from the ferry he met
Helen Ramsay. She had been to visit one of Mrs.
Churchill's protraes who was ill, and had just parted
from Madge, who had accompanied her. She bade
Barney Good morning,' and somehow his heart
seemed lighter, and the day brighter for the greeting.
rerhaps it was as well he did not say anything about
the fence. He might have been set down as mad; for
there was certaenly no sign of any loose planks when
Jack's father visited the spot the next day, which he
did, after putting a fare across to the high road.
Perhaps Barney might have been nervous, and
fancied the mishap. Certainly the other man did not
try leaning ma .the place, and when circumstances
occurred, not very long afterwards, to make it
advisable to test thp stability of the barricade round
the pit, every br,ard Was in its place and fast. Jack's
father, Mr. I)liovan by name, aid not:sore for his
work at tio fHrry. It was uncertain, and apt to call
him away n his pipe and his nap at the most in-
convenient sea ions. He was going to be paid, and
there was pieni y to eat; but, on the whole, he rather
preferred waiting for jobs in Hillford Market Place,
and taking h's chance of a' litray glass of beer now
and then, and a plateful of broken victuals from the
punitc-house.
He wondered when Barney would be bank. There

had been nothing said about that. But it was under-
stood that his absence would not be a long one. He
certainly could not return under two days. And Mr.
Donovan felt very discontented and lonely. If he had
only Jack to thrash, he would have felt better. He
transported the old crow to Hillford with him; so
it was evident he did not intend to return as long as
Barney was away.
And it appeared to Barney's substitute on the second
evening that the ferryman had been playing him a
trick. It was all very well to pretend to have letters
from his mother, calling him away to Heaven knows
where, Mr. Donovan said to himself. But Barney had
some game on hand, andhe had never gone out of the
neighbourhood at all. Mr. Donovan was prowling
through the wood on the second day, just as it was
growing dusk, and met with an adventure. He was
not doing anything in particular—just looking for
anything that might be picked up, and put away till
a convenient time came for removing it; or any wood
that he might appropriate unseen, and carry home
when he had time and opportunity. There were things
picked up in the wood sometimes. People picnicked
there a great deal, and sometimes left things behind
them. And he might chance upon a purse or a spoon,
and there would be no need to make a fuss about it.
It would be better than tiring himself out, as he had
to do now, to earn a penny; people were so unfeeling,
and expected so much for the miserable money that
they paid for jobs.
The owner of the wood was very particular about
trespassing, and damage being done to the young
trees, and the soft grass which was a peculiarity in
some parts of the place. There was every freedom
as long as parties kept to amusing themselves with-
out hurting the property, but Mr. Donovan had an
eye to certain broken branches which had suffered in
a recent storm, and had not as yet been removed, and
which he thought he could manage to conceal till he
could get them away.
I'll put 'em in the hole if I can't hide 'em no where
else,' he said to himself. 'I ain't afraid of the ghost,
and I can hitch 'em up so that they won't go down
too far; no one will ever look there for 'em if they
remember to get them at all.'
There was some good burning in the boughs he
coveted, sawed up they would make fine chumps, and
he could dispose of them away from Hillford, and no
one would ask any questions about where they came
from if they were cheap. He cleared a place beside
the hoarding that surrounded the hole, and dragged
one branch there ready to lift it over, when the sound
of a footstep close upon him made him pause and
fling himself down innocently on the moss, as if he
were contemplating the beauties of nature, and doing
nothing else at all.
What do they want here, whoever they are P he
said viciously, spitting snappishly as he spoke. 'Why,
what the devil! Bless me, if he hasn't sold me, and
never gone after all.'
It was Barney Grubb who was coming swiftly
towards where he sat, looking at him with something
very like fear in his face, slinking about in the wood
as if to avoid observation, but not to be mistaken by
anyone who knew him so well; it was Barney, here
in Surrey, and not by his mother's bedside in Here-
fordshire. Donovan stared at him in amazement for
a second or two, and then spoke to him. Barney
looked startled at the sound of his voice; there was a
queer, dazed look in his eyes as if he had been drink-
ing, mumbled something unintelligible by way of
reply, and then vanished. That was what Donovan
said when he was questioned about it. Vanished like
a ghost, and never left any clue to the way he went.
It was getting dark, and Barney Grubb's substitute
did not know the wood nearly so well as he did, and
so lost him. How, he could not tell. It was Barney,
he was sure of that. He saw his suit of velveteens,
much the worse for wear, and the red handkerchief
that was always part of the ferryman's attire, and the
odd fur cap that he was wont to declare kept his
head cool in summer and warm in winter; aad he
marked a peculiar action Barney had of touching his
upper lip, as if the tangled mass of hair that hid his
mouth had been a trim moustache at some time or
other in his life.
He was gone like a ghost, and Mr. Donovan stared
and scratched his head, and blasphemed freely, as his
custom was whenever he was puzzled.
He's stole a march on me,' has Barney,' he said to
himself. 'What's he up to, I wonder? Blest if I
stay in this mouldy old hole of his another night.
Where has he gone to? There's no path out of this
but the one I came in by, and yet he's gone as clean
as if he was a spirit.'
He turned to beat a retreat, feeling very uncom-
fortable and eerie, and as if he would be gild to be at
home and under cover. But the wonders of the night
were not over for him yet.
As he stepped quietly past the hole towards the
path down to the boats, something rustled amongst
the undergrowth by the haunted shaft. It crept like
a large animal, and when he got close to it and was
peering down in the twilight to see what it was, there
looked up at him from the bushes the face of his own
boy Jack. Before he could lay a hand on him—if,
indeed, he were not another deceiving apparition—
he slipped away and was lost to him as much as was
the other person, or ghost, or whatever it was.
'l'll get at the bottom of this somehow,' Donovan
said, with a strange feeling of terror over him at this
second appearance, and he went home to Hillford, and
left the ferry to take care of itself.
He was delayed a good while, for his boat had got
itself entangled in a most unaccountable fashion in
the weeds and rushes on the bank, and it was some
time before he could get it clear. When he reached
home it seemed as if his trouble had been for nothing,
for his house was shut up, and it was some time
before he could make anyone hear, his family were all
sleeping so soundly.
After knocking loud enough to rouse the whole
street, his wife came to the window, and when she
understood that it was her husband that was demand-
ing admittance in that summary fashion, she informed
him that Jack had come in ' bad ' very early in the
evening, and he was at present in bed with his
brothers and sisters.

'I don't believe it,' Mr. Donovan said fiercely, and
was bidden to come and see for himself, and then
called mad and drunk for even hinting that Jack had
been out. He had been 'that ill' all day he had
scarcely held up his head at all, his mother declared.

CHAPTER XIV,
AT AN END.
I want the flashing of your smiles to meet,
I want the clasping of your hand to greet.'
ANON., in Household Words.'
Mn. DoNoverr could be vituperative, too, and he
soundly rated his wife and called her a liar, and de-
clared that he had only just chased Jack out of the
woods. But there was no doubt of the fact that he
was at home and so soundly asleep thatit was hard to
wake him, and his mother was very indignant that he
should be touched 'and him so bad,' as she said, and
alt,)gether Donovan was obliged to own that some one
had been too many for him.
He vowed revenge on Barney Grubb for deceiving
him, and on Jack for having a secret from him, and
()I everybody in general for being better off than
himself, and went back to his duties in a disagreeable
frame of mind that boded ill to any one who should
chance to offend him in the next few days. The
third day dawned and brought the usual routine of
work to the fetry, and Mrs. Donovan to cook and tidy
up the place for her husband, who asked sarcastically
after Jack.
He's bettor,' his mother said, 'and he's got a job
has Jack, he's going atone-picking all day to-day.'
Where?'

At Farmer Garnet's:
'lf I was Jack, I'd see Farmer Garnet buried under
his stones before I'd go and pick 'em,' Mr. Donovan
said angrily. _
A very little while before that same farmer had fiLd
Jack apprehended for egg-stealing and other mal-
practices. Jack had come triumphantly out of the
charge of theft, but various pieces of mischief had
been pro Ned against him, and he had been thrashed
and driven off the farm and bidden never to show his
face there again. It was news to hear that he was
going there now; but the farmer had been employ-
ing s gre ,t many boys, and perhaps it had been the
foreman who had engaged Jack; it didn't matter so
he trought the money home, where he went.
Mr. Donovan did not propose to go after his son,
and it was well for Jack that he did not, for that
young gentleman was away on some private business
of his own, which he had no mind his father should
know of.
Several passengers passed over the ferry on that
morning amongst them Mr. Gayford, who looked
rather pale and tired, Donovan thought. He was
very respectful, not to say servile, to the clergyman,
altogether unlike Barney, who would not bow down
to anyone, and he humbly hoped Mr. Gaylord was
well.

'Quite well, thank you Donovan,' was the gracious
answer," Have you had any passengers here to-
day?'
' Scarcely any, sir.'
Has my cousin, ?Ir. Hatherleigh, crossed the river,
do you know?
The young gent as is going to be married to the
lady at Fern Bank, sir
'The same.'
No, sir. Ho hasn't been across since I came here.
Is he at Hillford, sir ?'
'Not that I know of. But I have received a letter
from his place in London asking if he is here. He
was here, and it seems he did not go back again.'
Made a night of it somewhere, maybe, sir;
'I expect so,' Mr. Gayford said with a half sigh, as
if he were regretting Frank's tendency to such
frivolities. Where is Barney Grubb, that you are
here, Donovan?'
Blest if I know,' the man said, glad of getting an
opportun'ty of talking about what was uppermost in
his thoughts. He said he was going to see his
mother. It was a lie. He didn't go, and I know it.'
'lndeed; I did not know he had any relations. I
have always understood that he was a man without
friends.'
He was very close, sir—very close was Barney;
but there came a letter for him. It did come, for ray
boy Jack helped him to read it, saying as the old
woman was very ill, and he was to go directly to see
her. It was a long
way off, and he sent for me to
come here, and went away.'
And you say he didn't go.'
No,' as I'm a living man, he didn't,' Donovan said,
fiercely; and I'll be even with him for telling me
such lies, and keeping me here while he goes about
his secrets, whatever they are. Look here Mr. Gay-
ford, I saw him with my own eras in the wood yonder
last night!

'What time?'

'lt was getting dark, sir, nigh upon ten, I think; i 3
was just there by the haunted pit. I don't care to go
very nigh it myself at night; but I saw him there.'
And anyone else?'

'Not a soul. Well, yes, there was someone else in
the woods, but not with him—someone as will be able
to tell me what he was about some time, perhaps.'
• Do you know who it was, Donovan?'
Well, yes, sir, I do; but I am not going to say,
the deputy ferryman replied; and Mr. Gayford
laughed, and said he supposed it was something like
honour amongst thieves.
You are sure of Barney Grubb?' he asked.
was himself?'

I'd swear to him anywhere, sir,' was the ready
reply. 'I
,have not known him so many years for
aottiing.'
That chap's preaching himself into his grave,'
Donovan said to himself. He looks like a ghost;
maybe he thinks the women admire a pale face and
great hollow eyes. I've heard some of 'em do. Hullo!
Where did you come from?'
'From Littlefield Station new,' was the answer, as
Barney Grubb walked into his hut and sat down with
the air of a man who has walked a good many miles.
From Herefordshire before that.'

Gammon.'
What do you mean?'
You know what I mean well enough.'
No, I don't. I know one thing. Ihave been hoaxed.
There was no call for me to go to my mother, thank
God. She was quite well and hearty.'
'And you've been there?'
Surely, I have; why?'
You came back quick then. You didn't think I
should be over yonder, did you; but I was.'
'Over where? I don't know what you are talking
about.'

'Oh, yea, you do. What were you doing at the old
shaft yonder, last night. I saw you, and spoke to you
too.'

To me; To my ghost if you saw anything. I was
with some old chums in Hereford last night. You
have been dreaming, Donovan.'
No, I haven't—nor drinking either. I was close
to you, man. Do you think I have no eyes ?'
They have played you false for once,' Barney
said, much puzzled. I was not there.'

But Donovan was not to be convinced, and went
away in great dudgeon, fully convinced that for some
reason or other Barney was persisting in mystifying
him. He was no better satisfied with Jack, when he
reached home and found the boy there quietly with
his mother—a remarkable fact in itself but for which
the lad accounted by saying he was tired. He had
been hard at work all day, and he handed his father
some money which he said he had received as pay-
ment for his services.

Farmer Garnet has took to paying well,' he said,
with a sneer. Wait a bit, my gentleman. I'll be
even with you yet, and find out what you were doing
in the wood last night.'
Again Jack protested that he had been at home,
and receiving a thrashing—from which he had not
time to escape—stoically enough;without altering his
statement one jot. And Barney Grubb sat at home
and wondered what had come to everybody, and what
was happening that there seemed such a tangle of
events to be unravelled since his brief absence.
He had been hoaxed, that was plain. But by
whom, and what for? His mother had received him
with joy unspeakable, and prayers that he could stay
a little while with hr now thit he had come. But
she was not ill, and had never sent for him. He had
satisfied her by staying a short time, and had come
back full of wrath to be accused of never having gone
after all.
'The Devil's in it,' he said to himself, and smoked a
pipe, and in the evening sauntered into the town
after ferry hours—a thing he seldom did. But he was
ill at ease, and anxious to find out, if possible, what
Donovan meant. He heard nothing about it where
he went, but he did hear something that interested
him not a little. While he was consuming the liquor
that he had called for, the man who had driven Mrs.
Churchill's party to the ferry on the day of the picnic
came in and greeted him in a friendly fashion.
Barney was liked, despite his queer habits and un-
known origin; he kept himself to himself, and was
always ready to do a good turn to anyone. He re-
turned the man's good evening, who thereupon re-
marked that it was a queer start at Fernbank.
What start?' Barney asked. 'I have been away
for two days. Has anything happened?'
That's just what no one knows yet,' the man
replied. The young gent that is going to marry Miss
Ramsay is a-missing they say.'
'Missing?'
'That's what they told me.'
'‘lSince when?'
Only since last night. But he had made lots of
appointments for to-day, an was to have been paid a
lot of money, and that, you see makes his not being to
be found rather curious.'
He's run away, maybe,' Barney said.
I don't think that's likely,' the man replied. Any-
way they are anxious about it in London, and Mr.
Jarvis, the lawyer, has been down here this afternoon,
and a lot of people have been questioned about when
they saw him last. No one knows anything about
him here, except that he was in Hillford yesterday
afternoon.' _ _ _ _

He's quarrelled with the young lady, maybe, and
gone off.'
People don't go off when they have money to take,
man,' the driver said, quite irascibly. ' He'd have
gone off after he had taken it, not before. Anyway,
he's not to be found anywhere to-day. They ques-
tioned me about him because be was talking to me
yesterday morning about horses for some trip he
wanted to take.'

The man's story was rather garbled, but it was
true. It did not appear that after Frank Atherleigh
bade adieu to the ladies at Fernbank he had bees seen
by anyone. Late in the evening Mr. Simpson had
called at Mrs. Churchill's, and apologising for his in-
trusion, had asked if Mr. Frank Hatherleigh were
there. Told that he was not, he had remarked to the
servant that it was very strange—the young gentleman
had made an appointment with him, fixing his own
time, so that it should be after office hours and there-
fore not interfere with business, and he had never kept

it.
The worthy Mr. Simpson, who was a precise,
methodical man, was extremely wrath at being
kept in, and opined that most people, when they had
money to receive, were mighty glad to get it, instead
of neglecting it in such a fashion as this. Mre.
Churchill had gone out and spoken to him, and told
him at what hour Frank had left her house, and where
he had been going after he had seen Mr. Simpson;
and that gentleman declared acrimoniously that
no doubt a dog was of more importance in Mr.
Atherleigh's eyes than any business, and that perhaps
he might condescend to remember him after he had
settled about the animal.
But it appeared later that Frank had not been to
the man about the dog, either; "the owner of the
animal was likewise loud in his just indignation at
being kept, as he said, hanging about' waiting for
him with the dog, which he might have sold else-
where, but for Mr. Hatherleigh's interfering and
promising to purchase it.
Helen felt a strange misgiving when she heard
these things. Frank was not a punctual man at all,
and was apt to be careless in matters of business, but
he could not have forgotton to call at Mr. Simpson's.
He had gone straight to town, most probably. she
told herself, for some reason or other, and would be
back again the next day.
The next day brought no news till afternoon, and
then none of Frank. Mr. Jarvis, sitting alone in his
office that morning had been told he was wanted, and
had gone to find Frank's employer looking rather
troubled.
'Have you seen anything of Hatherleigh ?' he
asked.
No. Why? I hope there is nothing wrong.'
Not much. He has not come to business this
morning, that is all, and as I gave him some rather
important business to attend to yesterday, and bade
him bring the result to me this morning, I cannot
understand it. I was passing, and I thought he
might have called in on you, that was all.'
I have not seen him. I hope it is not a money
matter, and that the delay is inconvenient.'
'Oh, no. He had a few pounds to bring to me,
that is all. It was a message I expected, or a note.
Perhaps I may find him when I return.'
I have no doubt you will. He is not as careful
as he might be as to punctuality, but he is all right
else.'

'That lam sure he is. Good day, Mr. Jarvis.'
Mr. Jarvis turned aftar dismissing this visitor to
confront another—a woman in tears, who begged him
to speak to her for a moment.
'Have you seen anything of Mr. Hatherleigh, sir?'
she asked, as the lawyer stared at her in perplexity.
I am his landlady, and he hasn't been home all
'No, I have not seen him,' Mr. Jarvis replied,
gravely, thinking how strange all this seemed coming
directly on the top of what he had heard of Frank
only so short a time before. • I expect he is only
taking holiday. He went into the country to receive
a little money yesterday, which I daresay accounts
for his absence. I don't think you need be alarmed
about him.'
He was alarmed himself, thou& he would not say
so, Bud took the train for Hillford, instead of going
home as usual when his day's work was over.
(2o be continued.

T ELT
nEuwgol ma
gladness swshdoothhasn
onto
avl
wo lac ey; s
speak;a l always
oy singing.br ea
and
born but in the tongue is weak*
CONSCIENCE is the voice
of the soul; the passions are
the voice of the body.
THE genius, wit and spirit of a nation are discovered
in its proverbs.
WELL-ARRANGED time is a sign of a well-ordered
mind.
STUDY is the support of youth, the ornament of
prosperity, the solace !Ind refuge of adversity, and the
comtort of domestic life.
IT is well to be sanguine and full of anticipation' •
we are the better oil for our hopes even if they are
never realised.
UNNATURAL deeds do breed unnatural troubles. In-
fected minds to their deaf pillows will discharge their
Secrets.
MEN talk.tis if they believe in god, but they live as
if they thought there were none; their vows and
proms are no more than words. of course.