arrest and imprisonment. It is probable that he intended to make good his escape, but failed, owing to the illness of his wife.... This is a terrible story, friends, and it has a sad ending. Brookville had never learned to forgive. It had long ago formed the terrible habits of hate: suspicion, envy, sharp-tongued censure and the rest. Lydia Bolton could not remain here, though it was her birthplace and her home.... She longed for friendship! She asked for bread and you gave her—a stone!” The profound silence was broken by a sob from a distant corner. The strained listeners turned with a sharp movement of relief. “Fer pity sake!” faltered Abby Daggett, her beautiful, rosy face all quivering with grief. “Can’t nobody do nothing?” “Yes, ma’am!” shouted the big voice of Judge Fulsom. “We can all do something.... I ain’t going to sum up the case against Brookville; the parson’s done it already; if there’s any rebuttal coming from the defendant, now’s the time to bring it before the court.... Nothing to say—eh? Well, I thought so! We’re guilty of the charges preferred, and I’m going to pass sentence.... But before I do that, there’s one thing the parson didn’t mention, that in my opinion should be told, to wit: Miss Lydia Bolton’s money—all that she had—came to her from her uncle, an honest hardworkin’ citizen of Boston. He made every penny of it as a soap-boiler. So you see ’twas _clean_ money; and he left it to his niece, Lydia Bolton. What did she do with it? You know! She poured it out, right here in Brookville—pretty nigh all there was of it. She’s got her place here; but mighty little besides. I’m her trustee, and I know. The five thousand dollars found on the dead body of Andrew Bolton, has been made a trust fund for the poor and discouraged of this community, under conditions anybody that’ll take the trouble to step in to my office can find out....” The Judge paused to clear his throat, while he produced from his pocket, with a vast deal of ceremony, a legal looking document dangling lengths of red ribbon and sealing wax. “This Bond of Indemnity, which I’m going to ask every man, woman and child of fifteen years and up’ards, of the village of Brookville, hereinafter known as the Party of the First Part, to sign, reads as follows: Know all men by these presents that we, citizens of the village of Brookville, hereinafter known as the Party of the First Part, are held and firmly bound unto Miss Lydia Orr Bolton, hereinafter known as the Party of the Second Part.... Whereas; the above-named Party of the Second Part (don’t f’rget that means Miss Lydia Bolton) did in behalf of her father—one Andrew Bolton, deceased—pay, compensate, satisfy, restore, remunerate, recompense _and re-quite_ all legal indebtedness incurred by said Andrew Bolton to, for, and in behalf of the aforesaid Party of the First Part....