"It's that letter I wrote the parson that has roused her. Ha! Ha! Ha! Wouldn't she rave if she knew exactly what a charming piece of morality I had selected for her? Roswell must reform or he'll go to the dogs. I wrote that just to gratify my spite in return for her officious interference concerning Sarah Barrows. Such revenge doesn't pay, as I ought to have known. But now what is to be done?" Suddenly he started, clapping his hands on his knees. "I have it," he exclaimed. "I'll do it. At any rate it will give me time." Drawing the key of the secretary from his pocket, he proceeded to take from the book shelf a large bound volume, running his finger down one and another of the columns of figures, his countenance relaxing visibly. "Yes, that will do," he murmured with a sigh of relief; "that will do, and it will give me time." He pulled open a large drawer in the lower part of the secretary and taking from thence a sheet ruled with red ink, he proceeded to make out a list of securities, bank and city stock, mortgages on real estate, etc., etc., to be exhibited to Frank Edmond and his legal advisers. This work occupied him till three o'clock in the afternoon, but he arose from it satisfied that it would do the business for which it was intended, and that for the present he was safe. The dinner-bell rang while he was returning the folio volume to the shelf, and with a self-satisfied smile, he said to himself: "All looks fair and above board except the sale of that land for half its value. I must trust to my usual good luck to explain that somehow. 'Twouldn't do to let them guess that I received a good fat bonus for consenting to the sale, and that the bonus went into my own pocket." It was an immense relief to Mrs. Tracy when she saw her husband emerge from his sanctum, with a smile taking the place of the scowl she had so much reason to dread. At twelve o'clock she had knocked at his door with a plate of sandwiches and a glass of brandy. But in return for her wifely attentions, she had only received a rudely expressed request that she would attend to her own business, and leave him alone. Lifting the cover from an immense platter before him, the gentleman condescended a flattering remark upon the juicy roasting joint. Then replacing the cover, he repeated the form of words he used as grace, and then proceeded with alacrity to carve several nice cuts which he laid gently on his own plate. The duty of attendance on number one being complied with, he sent his plate round to his wife to be supplied with potatoes, turnip, squash and macaroni, at the same time asking: "Will you have it rare, Roswell?" The young man, looking extremely pain and haggard, with blood-shot eyes and trembling hands, replied that he liked it very rare. Mrs. Tracy having passed her plate for some meat, the conversation flagged. Roswell, however, was soon satisfied, and pushing back from the table complained of a tearing headache.