'Know what's the matter with ye,' said Uncle Eb. 'Searchin' after trouble--thet's what ye're doin'. Findin' lots uv it right there 'n the fire. Trouble 's goiti' t' git mighty scurce 'round here this very selfsame night. Ain't goin' t' be nobody lookin' fer it--thet's why. Fer years ye've been takin' care o' somebody et I'll take care 'o you, long's ye live--sartin sure. Folks they said ye was fools when ye took 'em in. Man said I was a fool once. Alwuss hed a purty fair idee o'myself sence then. When some folks call ye a fool 's a ruther good sign ye ain't. Ye've waited a long time fer yer pay--ain't much longer to wait now.' There was a little quaver in his voice, We all looked at him in silence. Uncle Eb drew out his wallet with trembling hands, his fine old face lit with a deep emotion. David looked up at him as he wondered what joke was coming, until he saw his excitement. 'Here's twenty thousan' dollars,' said Uncle Eb, 'a reel, genuwine bank check! Jist as good as gold. Here 'tis! A Crissmus present fer you 'n Elizabeth. An' may God bless ye both!' David looked up incredulously. Then he took the bit of paper. A big tear rolled down his cheek. 'Why, Holden! What does this mean?' he asked. ''At the Lord pays His debts,' said Uncle Eb. 'Read it.' Hope had lighted the lamp. David rose and put on his spectacles. One eyebrow had lifted above the level of the other. He held the check to the lamplight. Elizabeth stood at his elbow. 'Why, mother!' said he. 'Is this from our boy? From Nehemiah? Why, Nehemiah is dead!' he added, looking over his spectacles at Uncle Eb. 'Nehemiah is not dead,' said the latter. 'Nehemiah not dead!' he repeated, looking down at the draft. They turned it in the light, reading over and over again the happy tidings pinned to one corner of it. Then they looked into each other's eyes. Elizabeth put her arms about David's neck and laid her head upon his shoulder and not one of us dare trust himself to speak for a little. Uncle Eb broke the silence. 'Got another present,' he said. 'S a good deal better 'n gold er silver.' A tall, bearded man came in. 'Mr Trumbull!' Hope exclaimed, rising. 'David an' Elizabeth Brower,' said Uncle Eb, 'the dead hes come to life. I give ye back yer son--Nehemiah.' Then he swung his cap high above his head, shouting in a loud voice: 'Merry Crissmus! Merry Crissmus!' The scene that followed I shall not try to picture. It was so full of happiness that every day of our lives since then has been blessed with it and with a peace that has lightened every sorrow; of it, I can truly say that it passeth all understanding. 'Look here, folks!' said Uncle Eb, after awhile, as he got his flute, 'my feelin's hev been teched hard. If I don't hev some jollification I'll bust. Bill Brower, limber up yer leather a leetle bit.' Chapter 44