Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1880-04-16
her voice was drowned in Mrs. Nash's

supposep Who else had the chance ?
Answer me that. It serves me lust
right for taking in girl with no recon-
mend-a girl l didn't know nothing
about, not so much as her name, or
where she come from, or who her folks
are. Five weeks tomorrow, that's all
the time she's been in the house, sir
but this is the end of it. It's the last
time I'll ever have help don't know
all the long and short of, so you needn't
feel afraid to stop with us again-no, nor
none of your friends, either; and as for
her, out she packs this day.
Id better go for the constable, hadn't
IP-if you're sure it was under the
pillow you put it, suggested the land
lord.
oh, don't, please; please don't
pleaded the girl, weeping violently.
Give the gentleman his wallet back,
then, and perhaps he'll let you off,
l can't. haven't got it. I never
saw it. Oh, please believe me. Don't
send me to Jail, she urged.
The landlady only answered by a
sound expression of disgust. And
throwing her apron over her head, the
poor girl wept in silence, saying no
more.
John had held his peace during this
alteration, sharply cycling the parties
concerned in it meanwhile. The Nashes
he knew something about. They were
of good reputation as far as he was
aware. The maid was stranger to
them, as to him; but spite of the cir
cumstances, and her manner, which was
hardly less suspicious, he could not
bring himself to believe her guilty. He
was not hasty man, and he was a Just
one, with a kind healt to back his tenn
perate judgments; and after few min
utes' reelection he made up his mind
what to do.
! can't swear that l put the wallet
under the pillow or anywhere else,' he
said. I'm pretty sure that l did, but
my thoughts about it are confused
somehow, and it may be that left it at
Bolton, where / slept on Tuesday.
don't want no injustice done on my ac-
count. So don't CRY like that address
ing himself to the girl. 'I'll tell you
what I'll do. Get the bay shod during
the day, will youP'-to Mr.. Nash and
if you'll lend me saddle I'll ride back
to Bolton and make inquiry there. If
find the money, well and good; if l
don't, it'll be time enough to talk fur
ther about it tomorrow
I'm sure It'll very good of you to take
so much trouble, declared the landlady.
But whether or no, the girl don't stay
here. I'll have no suspected thief in
my house.
'There'll be no thing to suspect her of
if l find the wallet rejoined John,
dryly. Don't give the poor thing a
bad name till you know that she de-
serves it, Then he left the room, un-
mindful of the look OF gratitude which
shone upon him from the blue eyes of
the girl, who had dropped her apron,
and gazed after him till he was out of
sight.
His reflections were not agreeable as
he retraced his footsteps over the dusty
highway Travelled but yesterday with so
| light heart. The loss of his money
meant a great deal to John Boyd. The
pressure of anxiety seemed to settle
again upon his shoulders, rs he thought
over the probabilities of its non-re-
covery. But l won't give in without
a fight for it, he thought, grimly, as he
urged on his horse. Miles seemed
doubly long when measured by heavy
heat, and what with dust, heat and the
con tinual effort to clear his mental con-
fusion as to where and when he last
had seen his wallet, the young farmer
was tagged and dispirited enough before
noon was fairly come.
He stopped to dine at little tavern
attached to a toll-gate, and with some
vague hope that the money might have
been picked up on the road by some one,
mentioned his loss. The toll-keeper
shook his head.
Bottoms your only chance he said.
If twas on the road you dropped it.,
there's no likelihood that you'll ever
hear of it again. The dust's eight
inches deep, should say, and there's
been three big droves of sheep and one
of bullocks along since yesterday, so if
your wallet was a-lying there, they must
have trampled it under pretty thor
oughly. 1t is buried deep enough, you
may be sure, unless, which is Just as
likely to happen, some one has picked
it up and made off with it. Your chance
is slim one, reckon
Cold comfort this; but John was
forced to agree with the opinion. De-
spondingly he rode through the after
noon, scanning the way as he went; for,
despite the toll-keeper, a faint hope still
fingered in his heart, though the track,
deep in dust, and churned and trampled
by the crowding droves, presented a
sorry field for either hope or discovery.
He had gained the top of a long hill,
from which Bolton was dimly visible,
when moving object far ahead caught
his eye, and he rose in his stirrups in
order to see more clearly. AS he did so
his horse made false step, stumbled,
and threw him forward in the saddle,
so that his head grazed the horses
neck. 1t was in this position that a
tiny object, a patch of red not over an
inch square, in the dust beneath, caught
his quick eye. His heart gave little
leap; then he called himself fool; but
all the same he dismounted to examine
Already a random hoof-stroke had
buried the red patch from sight, but
John recollected the spot, and stopping
dug and scooped till again it became
visible. His fingers recognized solid
} substance. Trembling with excitement
he continued to dig; another second the
object was uncovered, lifted out, anC
J with wild, incredulous whoop ofjoy
John Boyd held in his hand his wallet
buried deep by the hurrying herds, anc
uncovered for one passing moment tha'
J his eye might detect it, and no other
Except for that lucky stumble, he too
[ would have ridden over the lost treas
| ure, and never dreamed what lay be
| ne ath his horses feet.
f And some folks say there amt NJ
God + was his mental comment, spoker
half aloud. Then-for John Boyd's re
3 ligion, though a homely, was true on,
> he bent his head and said few word
: of thanksgiving; after which. jumping
| on his horse, he took the backward
? route, eager to tell his good fortune ant
9 exonerate the poor girl, who, as he nov
remembered with self-reproach, mus
Y have passed painful day under tn
t stigma of undeserved suspicion.