Harold drank three glasses of milk, and then sat down to tell as much of his moving tale as he thought desirable. CHAPTER XLI. HOW THE NIGHT WENT George sat opposite to him, his hands on his knees, the red nightcap on his head, and a comical expression of astonishment upon his melancholy countenance. “Well,” he said, when Harold had done, “blow me if that ain’t a master one. And yet there’s folks who say that there ain’t no such thing as Providence—not that there’s anything prowided yet—p’raps there ain’t nawthing there after all.” “I don’t know if there is or not, but I’m going back to see, and I want you to come with me.” “Now?” said George rather uneasily. “Why, Colonel, that bain’t a very nice spot to go digging about in on a night like this. I niver heard no good of that there place—not as I holds by sich talk myself,” he added apologetically. “Well,” said the Colonel, “you can do as you like, but I’m going back at once, and going down the hole, too; the gas must be out of it by now. There are reasons,” he added, “why, if this money is to be found at all, it should be found this morning. To-day is Christmas Day, you know.” “Yes, yes, Colonel; I knows what you mean. Bless you, I know all about it; the old Squire must talk to somebody; if he don’t he’d bust, so he talks to me. That Cossey’s coming for his answer from Miss Ida this morning. Poor young lady, I saw her yesterday, and she looks like a ghost, she du. Ah, he’s a mean one, that Cossey. Laryer Quest warn’t in it with him after all. Well, I cooked his goose for him, and I’d give summut to have a hand in cooking that banker chap’s too. You wait a minute, Colonel, and I’ll come along, gale and ghostesses and all. I only hope it mayn’t be after a fool’s arrand, that’s all,” and he retired to put on his boots. Presently he appeared again, his red nightcap still on his head, for he was afraid that the wind would blow a hat off, and carrying an unlighted lantern in his hand. “Now, Colonel, I’m ready, sir, if you be;” and they started. The gale was, if anything, fiercer than ever. Indeed, there had been no such wind in those parts for years, or rather centuries, as the condition of the timber by ten o’clock that morning amply testified. “This here timpest must be like that as the Squire tells us on in the time of King Charles, as blew the top of the church tower off on a Christmas night,” shouted George. But Harold made no answer, and they fought their way onward without speaking any more, for their voices were almost inaudible. Once the Colonel stopped and pointed to the sky-line. Of all the row of tall poplars which he had seen bending like whips before the wind as he came along but one remained standing now, and as he pointed that vanished also. Reaching the summer house in safety, they entered, and the Colonel shut and locked the door behind them. The frail building was literally rocking in the fury of the storm.