The Kennewick courier. [volume] (Kennewick, Wash.) 1905-1914, 1905-10-13
CHAPTER VI.

Mary said nothing. Her cousin David
was doubtless a great fool, but people
said unkind things about her uncle's
conduct toward him.
III l had not secured his property,
some one else would. 1t is still in the
family, which ought to be a great COM
fort to him, wherever he has gone.
George Sidcote is another-well, he isn't
exactly a fool, like David; but he doesn't
get on-he doesn't get On. I fear very
much"
Uncle, spare him!''
Because he wants to marry you,
child7 IL that a reason for interfering
with the course of business? When the
pear is ripe, 1t will dropAif not into my
mouth, into some other mans. Business
before love, Mary"
III l could give my fortune, he would
b out Of his dimculties."
Your fortune, Mary7 Where IL it,
What fortune? You have none unless
you marry with my consent. Your for
tuner Why, it depends on me whether
you ever get It. I don't say that I shall
never consent. Show me the right man
not a spendthrift. Mary"
George Il no spendthrift"
Nor a man In debt"
III George Is in debt, It IL not HE
fault"
A substantial man, and one who
knows the worth of money; bring that
man along. and We viii see. If not
well Mary, l am getting on for seventy.
and l can't last forever, and perhaps
perhaps, l say shall leave you my
money when die You can wait till
then. Blk thousand pounds L. q tremen-
dous big lump to part with, when a man
10 not obliged to part with II. And am
not obliged to give my consent. No. no:
and after I've lost three thousand-thres
thousand! Besides. your comfortable
here; what do you want to marry fo.3
What's the good Of marrying? Better
stay at home and save money. give you
Jour board and your lodging, Mary, while
you are here, for nothing; and your cloth.
ing, too-yes, your clothing" He spoke
as II many young people had to 10 with
out
Eyes. I know" She laughed thinking
how much her uncle had given her for
dress In the last year or two. "Well. uu.
Gle, but II do marry without your
consent you will have to give the money
to my cousin David"
"Yes. yes; Of course. Whats tho rood
Of telling me that? But David il dead.
no doubt BY this time, and then the
money must remain with me, of course
But you won't do that. Mary; you'll
never be 80 wicked as to do that. Be-
sides. If you did. David's accounts with
me have never been made up. and I
don't doubt that when we come to look
into them it will be found that he ovhs
me a great deal still. was very soft
foolishly soft-with David"
Mary made no reply. Her uncle had
been, indeed. soft with David: SO soft
| that he had sold him up and turned him
| out, and now possessed his land.
MIR. Leighan sighed heavily. no doubt
over his foolish softness, and became
silent. 1t was not often that he talked
80 much with his niece.
Six years before this, about half-past
nine one evening in the autumn of the
year 1880, George Sidcote, walking home.
found Mr.. Leighan lying in the middle of
the road on Heytree Down His pony
was grazing quietly beside him. and be
| was lying on his back senseless, with an
NoAs "oohO al Ills ucdU, Tue SCdY OF
| which would never leave him. He had
fallen, apparently. from his pony. No
susicion Of violence or robbery was en-
| tertained: first, because no one ever
| heard of violence at Challacombe, and
secondly. because he had not apparently
been robbed. So. at least, it seemed to
those who carried him home, for his peck
cts were full Of money, and his watch
and chain had not been taAen.
| For three days and three nights Daniel
Leighan lay speechless and senseless. and
but for a faint pulse he seemed dead.
When he recovered Consciousness, the
first qustions he asked were concerning
a certain tin box containing papers which
he declared was hanging in a bal from
his neck Now of that tin box no ono
knew anything. Presently, when he
} counted his money, he swore that be wa,
twenty pounds short.