“Heaven grant it may be nothing more! But I fear it is something far more serious.” “I dare say it's only a boy's lark, Mr. Reynolds.” “But you forget--it was a young man who was seen in his company.” “I really don't know what to think of it, then. I don't believe the boy will come to any harm.” Little sleep visited the broker's pillow that night, but the housekeeper looked fresh and cheerful in the morning. “Has the woman no feeling?” thought the anxious father, as he watched the tranquil countenance of the woman who for five years had been in charge of his house. When she was left alone in the house Mrs. Estabrook took from her workbasket a letter, bearing date a month previous, and read slowly the following paragraph: “I have never forgotten the wrong done me by Mr. Reynolds. He discharged me summarily from his employment and declined to give me a recommendation which would secure me a place elsewhere. I swore at the time that I would get even with him, and I have never changed my resolution. I shall not tell you what I propose to do. It is better that you should not know. But some day you will hear something that will surprise you. When that time comes, if you suspect anything, say nothing. Let matters take their course.” The letter was signed by Willis Ford. CHAPTER XXVI -- A WESTERN CABIN “Abner!” The speaker was a tall, gaunt woman, in a loose, faded, calico dress, and she stood at the door of a cabin in a Western clearing. “What yer want?” came as a reply from a tall, unhealthy-looking boy in overalls, who was sitting on a log in the yard. “I want you to split some wood for the stove.” “I'm tired,” drawled the boy. “I'll tire you!” said the mother, sharply. “You tall, lazy, good-for-nothing drone! Here I've been up since five o'clock, slavin' for you and your drunken father. Where's he gone?” “To the village, I reckon.” “To the tavern, I reckon. It's there that he spends all the money he gets hold of; he never gives me a cent. This is the only gown I've got, except an old alpaca. Much he cares!” “It isn't my fault, is it?” asked the boy, indifferently. “You're a-follerin' in his steps. You'll be just another Joel Barton--just as shif'less and lazy. Just split me some wood before I get hold of yer!” Abner rose slowly, went to the shed for an ax, and in the most deliberate manner possible began to obey his mother's commands.