"Doctor had an old horse as was just pleading to be put an end to, but the doctor couldn't make his mind up to it and Twombley finally undertook to settle the matter with a shot-gun, up back in the hills. Twombley never missed the bull's-eye--a terrible hand with a gun he was. The doctor gave him two dollars for the job and looked real sick the day he heard that shot. Well, less than a week after Twombley came to the doctor and says as how he heard that a horse has to be buried and that if it isn't the owner gets fined twenty-five dollars, and he says he'll bury the carcass for five dollars. He explained how the horse, lying flat, was powerful sizable, and it would be a stern job to get it under ground. Well, old doctor gave the five dollars and Twombley took to the woods. "It was a matter of a month, maybe, when Twombley came back, and soon after old Philander Sniff appeared with a horse and cart, and Doctor Rivers, as soon as he set his eyes on the horse, sent for Twombley. Do you know, son, that scamp actually figured it out with the doctor as to the cost of food and care he'd been put to in order to get that shot-and-buried-horse into shape for selling! He'd sold him for ten dollars and expenses were twelve." Northrup leaned back and laughed until the quiet house reëchoed with his mirth. "Son, son!" cautioned Polly, shaking and dim-eyed, "it's going on to midnight. We can't carouse like this. But land! it is uplifting to have a talk when you ought to be sleeping. Well, the old doctor bought the Point just then and bought Twombley a new gun. Folks as couldn't earn their keep proper naturally drifted to the Point--God's living acre, as the doctor called it." Northrup rose and stretched his arms and then bent, as Peter had done, to Aunt Polly. But unlike Peter he kissed the small yearning face upraised to his. "It must be pleasant--being your mother," Polly whispered. "It's pleasant having you acting as substitute," Northrup replied. "Shall I bank the fire, Aunt Polly?" "No, son, there's something else I must see to before I turn in. Aren't you going for the cookies?" "Yes'm. Going to munch them in bed." And tiptoeing away in the most orthodox manner Northrup left Aunt Polly alone. Why was she staying up? She had no clear idea but she was restless, sleepless, and bed, to her, was no comfort under such conditions. However, since she had stated that she had something to do, she must find it. She went to a desk in the farther end of the room, and took from it her house-keeping book. She would balance that and surprise Peter! Peter always _was_ so surprised when she did. She bought the book to her nest on the sofa and set to work. Debit and credit. Figures, figures, figures. And then, mistily, words took their places. Names. Mary-Clare: Larry. Larry: Northrup. Mary-Clare! It was funny. The columns danced and giddily wobbled--and at the foot there was only--Mary-Clare! Mary-Clare was troubling the dear old soul.