"I don't know nothin' about my people. I only jest know they come over from some place with a funny name in the Old Country before I was born. The onliest kin I ever had over here was that there no-'count triflin' nephew of mine--Perce Dwyer--him that uster hang round this town. I reckin you call him to mind, Judge?" The old Judge nodded before continuing: "All the same, I reckin there ain't no manner of doubt but whut you had an uncle of the name of Daniel. All the evidences would seem to p'int that way. Accordin' to the proofs, this here Uncle Daniel of yours lived in a little town called Kilmare, in Ireland." He glanced at one of the papers that lay on his desktop; then added in a casual tone: "Tell me, Peep, whut are you doin' now fur a livin'?" The object of this examination grinned a faint grin of extenuation. "Well, suh, I'm knockin' about, doin' the best I kin--which ain't much. I help out round Gafford's liver' stable, and Pete Gafford he lets me sleep in a little room behind the feed room, and his wife she gives me my vittles. Oncet in a while I git a chancet to do odd jobs fur folks round town--cuttin' weeds and splittin' stove wood and packin' in coal, and sech ez that." "Not much money in it, is there?" "No, suh; not much. Folks is more prone to offer me old clothes than they are to pay me in cash. Still, I manage to git along. I don't live very fancy; but, then, I don't starve, and that's more'n some kin say." "Peep, whut was the most money you ever had in your life--at one time?" Peep scratched with a freckled hand at his thatch of faded whitish hair to stimulate recollection. "I reckin not more'n six bits at any one time, suh. Seems like I've sorter got the knack of livin' without money." "Well, Peep, sech bein' the case, whut would you say ef I was to tell you that you're a rich man?" The answer came slowly. "I reckin, suh, ef it didn't sound disrespectful, I'd say you was prankin' with me--makin' fun of me, suh." Judge Priest bent forward in his chair. "I'm not prankin' with you. It's my pleasant duty to inform you that at this moment you are the rightful owner of eight thousand pounds." "Pounds of whut, Judge?" The tone expressed a heavy incredulity. "Why, pounds in money." Outside, in the hall, with one ear held conveniently near the crack in the door, Deputy Sheriff Quarles gave a violent start; and then, at once, was torn between a desire to stay and hear more and an urge to hurry forth and spread the unbelievable tidings. After the briefest of struggles the latter inclination won; this news was too marvellously good to keep; surely a harbinger and a herald was needed to spread it broadcast. Mr. Quarles tiptoed rapidly down the hall. When he reached the sidewalk the volunteer bearer of a miraculous tale fairly ran. As for the man who sat facing the Judge, he merely stared in a dull bewilderment. "Judge," he said at length, "eight thousand pounds of money oughter make a powerful big pile, oughten it?"