"You confine yourself too closely to business," anxiously remarked his mother. "You ought to take some recreation." A loud laugh from Monson P. and a silly chuckle from the son were the mother's only answers. "I don't see anything to laugh at," she exclaimed with more than usual spirit. "I can see that Roswell is running down; and I'm sure he needs more air." "You had better not talk about what you don't understand," said her husband with a sly wink at his son. But presently, some emotion of fatherly interest prompted him to add: "Roswell certainly isn't looking strong. And if he doesn't take care, his life wont be a long one." After a dessert of plum pudding and coffee, they arose from table, and Mrs. Tracy seized the favorable opportunity to state the fact that she needed money. "Money, it is always money," he began but suddenly checking himself, to her surprise and delight, her husband opened his portemonnaie, and put a roll of bank notes into her hand. CHAPTER XIX. MORRISVILLE. IN a village seventy miles from Maytown, the old-fashioned stage coach drew up, just about sunset, at the gate of a stone house. The driver jumped from the box, let down the steps with a clang, and held out his hand to assist his lady passenger to alight. "This be the house, Miss, follow the path round to the south door. This one,—" pointing to a front entrance, shaded by a portico with heavy coping, and woodbine stripped of its leaves flickering to and fro in the breeze,—"this one is locked most-times." "Thank you," answered a pleasant, girlish voice, which we recognize as that of our friend Helen Edmond. "Will you bring my trunk in?" "Sartin, Miss." "Here's your pay, driver. I think this part of the country is beautiful." He was busy unstrapping the trunk, and only stopped to take the bank bill in his teeth, while she, following his direction, walked slowly around the house to a pretty porch on the south side. There on the ample platform lay an immense dog of the St. Bernard breed, who, after regarding her with half-shut eyes, lifted his huge form and lazily approached her. "Good fellow," exclaimed Helen. "You and I must be friends." She laughingly held out her hand. And to seal the compact, he licked it, as if she were an old acquaintance. A woman at this moment answered her ring, and ushered the traveller into a cosey sitting-room, with pots of house plants filling the south windows, and giving the apartment that "heartsome" appearance so thoroughly appreciated by a stranger. "Yer aunt's expecting of yer, Miss," the woman remarked. "I'll show yer her chamber, whenever yer ready. I s'pose yer tired and hungry." "Not much of either," laughingly answered Helen, throwing off her hat and cloak. "It looks very pleasant, here." "Yer aunt 'll be pleased to hear yer say so, Miss." Leading the way to the front hall and up the handsome staircase: "This is the room; and I'll have some supper ready when yer come down."