“Guilty, I should think so,” answered Boyce, getting himself up from the chair, “good morning—good morning Miss. I hope I have not intruded nor nothing?” “Good morning,” said Ellen blandly, as became a not very young lady so near the hymenial altar. Mahone followed Boyce from the room, and the two men held some moments of eager conversation in the farthest corner of the kitchen. “Did I do it up brown?” questioned the younger man. “That you did,” answered the other. “Jared, I always have said you were a trump.” “What is best, every word of it is true. I’m going down to the court now. The young lady has only got the news a little in advance. Good-bye, old boy. I’ll come up and give you particulars when it’s all over.” “Good-bye, and see that you make no blunders,” answered Mahone, “they would be too costly just now.” “I say,” said Boyce, coming back a step or two, “don’t take the screws off from that rich girl in there. Nail her before we are in too deep.” “Oh, never fear, Ellen will do that,” answered Mahone, and the two parted. Meanwhile Ellen Post was proving herself worthy of the confidence Mr. Mahone expressed in her. The moment those two young men left the room she turned to Miss Spicer. “Now are you satisfied, Miss?” “Yes, that the work you undertook is half done,” answered the young lady tartly. “One thing is certain,” replied Miss Post quietly resuming her work, “the money we depended on must be paid within an hour, or that young man will come up missing at the examination.” Miss Spicer started to her feet, and flushed angrily, feeling herself coarsely coerced. “Ellen Post, I have made you a promise and it shall be performed. It seems that we cannot trust each other. Let that young man go on and I will pay you half the money now, the rest when these people are convicted, not a cent more. Take your choice, a check for two thousand five hundred now, the rest to abide the result of a trial, or nothing. Which will you have?” “The check,” said Ellen Post, still going on with her work with a leisurely motion. Miss Spicer left the room without a word. Ellen Post worked faster, and her needle flew. This was all the sign of excitement that she gave. Directly the young lady came down again with a check fluttering in her hand. She flung it into the waiting maid’s lap. “Will that do?” Ellen took the check up, and examined it closely. “Yes, it will do,” she said, “thanks!” Miss Spicer flung herself out of the room. The moment she was gone, Ellen Post dropped her work in a white heap on the carpet, and opened the kitchen door. “Mr. Mahone!” The footman answered the call of his lady love promptly. She closed the door and held up the check. He flushed crimson with pleasure. “You don’t say so!” “That is all we shall get till after the trial,” said Ellen. “Let me look at it,” entreated Mr. Mahone, reaching out his hand. “No, the ink is wet,” answered his betrothed. “But, but when—”