For many years she and Tobias had worked, and she had scrimped and saved, against that "rainy day" that is the dread of most cautious souls of middle age. Each dollar added to their slowly growing hoard had seemed positively to lighten the burden of fear of old age on Miss Heppy’s heart. Tobias frequently called her "Martha." She admitted she was cumbered by many cares. She believed they had been very real, those troubles she saw in the offing. And here, of late, had come the unexpected good fortune—a blessing long hoped for, yet never really believed possible by either Miss Heppy or her brother. A few hundred dollars from the estate of Cap’n Jethro Potts would have delighted them. But six thousand dollars! The gain of that sum had been quite outside their imagination. Altogether to their joint account in the Clinkerport Bank their bankbook showed now just a few dollars over eight thousand—to these plain longshore people an actual fortune. And now—— Miss Heppy panted her way up the last few steps. Ordinarily her flesh would have caused her to more than pant. Her face would have been as red as a sunset. But it was positively a pallid countenance that appeared to Tobias as he briskly polished brasswork and whistled a wandering little tune through his teeth. He did not look at her at first as she appeared through the hatchway; but he recognized her step. "I give it as my opinion," he said reflectively, "that if I had to puff and blow like a ship’s donkey-engine, comin’ up them stairs, I wouldn’t come aloft no oftener than I could help. What’s sprung a leak now to bring you ’way up here, Heppy?" "Tobias! Tobias!" gasped Miss Heppy. "Oh, sugar! Take your time. Get your breath. If it’s bad news I’d just as lief not hear it at all. If it’s good news I’ve found that expectation is a sight more satisfying than fulfilment most times. I can wait—— "Dad fetch it, Heppy! what’s the matter o’ ye?" She had fairly tottered into his arms. She hung to him, sobbing and gasping for breath. Tobias staggered under her weight. It was a minute or more before Miss Heppy could make audible her trouble. "Tobias, it’s gone!" "What ye lost? Them false teeth again? I knowed——" "Tobias, it’s worse than that. It’s the money!" "What money?" "Our money, Tobias! All our money! Uncle Jethro’s legacy and all!" "Oh, sugar, Heppy, you been dreamin’? You know that money’s safe in the bank," he urged. "But it ain’t safe. The bank ain’t safe. We’ve been robbed!" she cried, her voice rising to a thin shriek. "Heppy! What ever do you mean? That dratted Arad Thompson! You don’t mean to say he’s got away with it? And in that wheel chair?" "It isn’t Arad Thompson! Oh, it isn’t him!" wailed his sister. "The bank has been robbed! Burglars! Last night! Every penny of cash in it! A hundred and forty thousand dollars, so Zeke says!" "My soul and body!" murmured the lightkeeper reverently. "A hundred and forty thousand? My! My!"