"I have the fortune, or misfortune perhaps, to be what is commonly called a rich man. Money, they say, will do anything, and if it will I'll find this niece for you." The Patriarch's eyes grew moist as he read the words, and his hand trembled a little with emotion as he held the pencil. "I cannot let you do that," he protested. "You are very kind, and it seems almost as though you had been brought to me providentially at the end of long years of loneliness for a purpose, when my hour of helplessness was near; but, indeed, I have no right to allow you to do this." "They tell me in the village," wrote Madison in reply, "that you have always refused to accept a penny for anything you have ever done for them. I have no doubt you would equally refuse to accept anything from me for what you may do, and I should hesitate to offer it however much I felt indebted, but this is something that you must let me do. It will make me feel more--how shall I say it?--more as though I had a right to the privilege of coming here." The Patriarch wiped his still moist eyes before he answered. "What can I say to you? It does not seem right that I should let a stranger do so much, and yet it seems that I should not say no because--" Madison was bending over the slate, reading as the other wrote, and he took the pencil gently from the Patriarch's hand. "You must not look on me any longer as a stranger," he wrote. "Let us just consider that it is all arranged--only I would strongly advise making no mention of it until we make sure that she is alive." "I think nothing should be said," agreed the Patriarch. "For even if you found her she might not care to come--I have little here to offer a young girl--few comforts--the care of a blind man who is deaf and dumb." "We'll see about that when we find her"--Madison smiled brightly at the Patriarch, as he wrote. "Now that's settled for the time being, isn't it?" The dumb lips moved and both hands reached out to Madison. Madison took them in a firm, strong, reassuring clasp, then shook his finger in a sort of playfully emotional embarrassment, excellently well done, at the Patriarch--and picked up the slate again. "It is getting late," he wrote, "and I must not tire you out. I am afraid you will think I am far more inquisitive than I have any right to be, but there is one more question that I would like to ask--may I?" The Patriarch nodded his head, and laid his hand on Madison's sleeve in a quaint, almost affectionate way. "It is about your education. You came here sixty years ago, and you have lived alone. You could have had but few advantages, with your handicap, previous to that, and yet you write and use such perfect English." "The answer is very simple," replied the Patriarch on the slate. "Until within the last year, I have read largely. Would you care to look at my books? They are there in the nook on the other side of the fireplace."