“Oh, yes,” and Connie roused to something like interest. “Some one sent me a paper. I never knew who it was. And are they coming here to live?” “Bimeby, when the house is ready,” Mrs. Stannard replied. “Hal had a drawing made of what he wanted done and sent it to Mr. Green, the head carpenter in Millville, and he is seeing to it with a raft of men who dawdle half the time. I’ve watched ’em. Hal ought to be here to see it.” “And isn’t he here?” Connie asked, by way of saying something rather than because she was greatly interested. “No; he’s in Europe still, ordering furniture and carpets,” Mrs. Stannard said. “A pretty sum he’ll have to pay, and his wife’s father failed not long ago. Isn’t worth a cent, I hear. I am sure Hal depended a great deal on his wife’s money, and she hasn’t any.” “When are they coming?” Connie asked, and Mrs. Stannard replied: “Not till June or July, when everything is done. Harry hates a muss; he wants it all fair sailing. That’s the Morris of him. But he is a handsome fellow. I think you will like him.” To this Connie did not answer. She was getting tired, and said she would lie down and rest a while; then get up again and surprise Kenneth when he came home. CHAPTER XIII CONNIE’S SECRET Kenneth was gone longer than usual that day, and was rather tired and somewhat out of sorts when he drove into the yard. He had met his father at the post-office, where there was a letter from Harry, who was still in Paris, issuing his orders for his villa, as he called it, sometimes by letter and sometimes by cablegram, irrespective of the cost. Since the failure of his father-in-law he had retrenched a little and countermanded an order for a rug valued at a thousand dollars, and thought himself very economical. Still the rug haunted him. He wanted it, and wanted an expensive set of Dresden china and a malachite mantel and tables for his green room, and the desire grew so intense that he at last wrote to a Mr. Jones, a hard-fisted man in Millville, who loaned money on good security and large interest, and demanded payment the day it was due. Three thousand dollars was the sum Hal asked for, and which he was sure Mr. Jones would loan him. His uncle, he knew, would sign the note with him, and with such security Mr. Jones would feel safe. Accompanying this letter to Mr. Jones was one to Deacon Stannard, asking for his indorsement, and saying it was only for six months, when all of Harry’s indebtedness would be paid. “In any event,” he wrote, “you know I would not let any harm come to you and dear Aunt Mary,—the only mother I ever knew.”