The Press., 1894-12-06

closed involuntarily on a packet of pa pers. She drew it out and held it ur triumphantly in the lamplight
 "Let us get out of hcrc," she whis. pered to the bewildered Paul. II feel faint, and can't breathe.
 She blew out the lamp, and they tip toed to the door, locked it, and Elsie put the key in her pocket. They hardly drew breath until they were out of the house, and then like two swallows they sped to the top of the lane, the hollow oak and the great pile of stones. The early summer dawn had come with cloudy red splendor behind the line of dark fire on the eastern hills, and the catbirds were singing titfully in the young maple tops. It was by the dawn light, seated together behind the great oak tree, that Elsie and Paul examined the packet of papers. The first one was the deed of the old farm, very ancient document, yellowed by time and with a great seal that weighed several ounces. The second they came upon was Uncle Sis will, written by his own hand on 8 sheet of common foolscap. Being of sound and disposing mind and memory, he had left everything of which he died possessed to Elsie Ray ill case she mar- riod Paul Raynor by the time she came of age; otherwise the estate was to pay $2,O00 to Paul for his education, and the spinsters, Prissy and Hetty Hing. ham, were recommended to the kind care of both the young people for life. There was a clear statement of all the personal property left by Uncle Si and a legacy of the family Bible to Arthur Hapgood. The will was dated six years back and was witnessed by Reuben and Dorothy Dick, two plain friends and distant cousins of Uncle Si, who had paid him infrequent visits during the time Elsie had lived at the farm.
 She well remembered these placid old people, the sweet thees and thys with which they were wont to sprinkle their conversation, but it was long time since she had heard Uncle Si speak of the Dicks They might be dead and ill their graves. Both Paul and Elsie, ig- norant as they were of the world, knew the will was irregular in form. How could it hold good against the interests of the direct heir without the testimo- ny of those old people? By dint of prob ing her memory Elsie recalled the fact that they lived more than hundred miles away in quite another part of the country. She remembered the name of their village but had forgotten the state and county. If the will were produced at once, its genuineness might be Sl,n ov,l G,,l themselves in an awkward position if, without proof. they were accused ot forging the paper. In their whispered talk under the oak tree, in that wild red dawn, they decided to conceal its exist. epce for the present to gain time-above all, to hunt up the Dicks. Moreover, they must take advice of older and wiser heads than their gym.
 Arthur Hapgood did not awake pnti late that morning, for it was near mid night before he had fallen into his first heavy slumber. The old ladies obsti nate resistance to his wishes had nettled him not little, and he was also anx ious to punish Elsie for the part she had played. His mind had been at work on plan altogether feasible and proper and calculated to avoid scandal. As the old women had retreated to their beds and refused to arise, it was to be inferred that they were helpless invalids-bed- ridden and half imbecile and to be dealt with accordingly. He therefore deter. mined to drive old Whitefoot in the chaise to the town, early ill the morn. ing, to engage an ambulance at the hos | pital to remove the old ladies to the home, where they could have care an6 medical attendance that could not be giv' en them on the farm. After conoocting this clever plan he fell asleep, with con. l science void of offense, and slept the sleep of the just.
 When Arthur came down stairs at o'clock, he heard Elsie singing as she stepped briskly about at her work. He wondered at the change that had come over the little witch, who the day be. fore had been as gloomy and unsocial as @ tombstone. As Elsie grew more cheer full and light hearted Arthur became glum and silent. No morning saluta- tions passed between them. She served him, however, at breakfast, and while she smiled at the sugar bowl he frown- ed at the milk jug enough to turn the sweet cream sour. Elsie had been in to wait on the old ladies, had petted and patted them and breathed comforting words into their ears. The more Arthur Hapgood seemed sunk in gloom the more light hearted Elsie became, the more trippingly sounded her little feet about the old kitchen. Breakfast was just over, and Arthur had drawn out his watch to calculate the time 1t would take him to drive to Littlefield, when a light carriage, drawn by single horse, stopped at the farmhouse door. A pale old gentleman, tall and thin, with a straight bodied coat and gray broad brim, stepped out of the carriage to give his hand to lovely, tranquil old lady in Quaker drab, with 8 scoop bonnet and little shawl of the same color
 Elsie had been drawn to the window by the sound of wheels, and as soon as her eye fell on the old couple she rushed to the front door, flung it wide open, skipped down the walk and seized the old lady in her arms.
 I've are glad to see thee, Elsie Ray; glad to see thee," said Reuben Dick, shaking her hand.
 He took off his hat and looked sol emnly up at the front of the old farm house.
 "I only heard of friend Simon Hap goods departure two days ago. and said to my wife, Let us set off at once. for something tells me we shall be need ed in the house of sorrow.' Friend Si. mon was a just man, and surely thee has grieved for him, for he was good friend to thee. '
 Tears of joy were running down FL sie's cheeks. She felt that God had raised up friends in the hour of need Sho led the old people in to the sitting room, where from the open window Ar thur Hapgood had been 8 bewildered