"Of course you won't. Look here, I say. What's this--this heap of stuff I took out of the safe? Did you ever see it before?" "Yes; it's the money I blasted out." "Well, if it were yours, would you promise never again to blast anything or anybody or anywhere? Your very own to keep forever, if you liked." "Huckleberries! Do you mean it?" "If you promise, I mean it." "Oh, I do--I do. I'll keep my word. I meant to try and I did. But it's over. I'm glad; I wasn't happy, never. I promise, whether or no, money or not." "I believe you'll keep that promise: Hallam and Amy, here, are witnesses. Now, listen: I, too, promise. I'll not only give you this old hoard, but this besides." He swept into view a pile of golden eagles, larger than any there save himself had ever seen, and placed it beside that time-worn lot of similar material. In bestowing his gift he had provided to have it in such shape as he knew the half-wit would best comprehend. "This is for you, also. It is just as much more as you found. I give it to you because my little cousin here has taught me it is better to give than to receive. You must take both piles, in this new hand-bag, and ask Mr. Metcalf to take care of it for you. You trust _him_, don't you?" "Yes--yes," answered Fayette, in breathless eagerness. "Now, the condition: if you ever again, by word or deed, do any sort of injury to any human being or to any helpless animal, I will have you punished, punished in full for all you have done wrong in the past. Do you understand?" "Yes," sobbed the grateful and greatly excited youth. Somewhere he had heard, maybe from Cleena's lips, something about heaping coals. He felt at that moment as if the living coals were lying upon his own poor head. "Then go; and if it will give you any pleasure to know it, I believe that you are now about the richest of the mill operatives living in Ardsley village." Stumbling, through his tears, and truly far more grateful for the prevention of his crime than even for his unexpected good fortune and full forgiveness, Cleena's Fayetty went. As his footsteps died away, Amy, who seemed given to outbursts to relieve her full heart, threw her arms about the old man's neck and kissed him over and over. "That's better, child, that's better. The first time thee planted it on my nose, I seemed to have a dim perception that this was not the regulation feature for such gifts, but it answered; though I like them better on my cheek, child. Thee's improving. Now let's go home. Yes; it's the carryall. There's room for us all. On the way I'll tell thee--" "No, no; wait till we get home. Don't let's leave anybody out any more. By thy face I can see it's something delightful thee is going to tell. Oh, make the old horse travel, travel--fast, fast!" CHAPTER XXIX. CONCLUSION.