his clothing, or he will be likely to take cold."

Squire Haynes looked puzzled.

"I don't see how a large rowboat like his could capsize," he said; "he
must have been very careless."

"It was a sailboat," explained John, rather reluctantly.

"A sailboat! Whose?"

"Mine."

"I don't understand at all."

"I had a mast put in, and a sail rigged up, two or three days since,"
said John, compelled at last to explain.

"Why did you do this without my permission?" demanded the squire
angrily.

"Perhaps," said Mr. Morton quietly, "it will be better to postpone
inquiries until your son has changed his clothes."

Squire Haynes, though somewhat irritated by this interference, bethought
himself that it would be churlish not to thank his son's preserver.

"I am indebted to you, sir," he said, "for your agency in saving the
life of this rash boy. I regret that you should have got wet."

"I shall probably experience nothing more than temporary inconvenience."

"You have been some months in the village, I believe, Mr. Morton. I
trust you will call at an early day, and enable me to follow up the
chance which has made us acquainted."

"I seldom make calls," said Mr. Morton, in a distant tone. "Yet," added
he, after a pause, "I may have occasion to accept your invitation some
day. Good morning, sir."

"Good morning," returned the squire, looking after him with an
expression of perplexity.

"He boards at the Frosts', doesn't he, John?" asked Squire Haynes,
turning to his son.

"Yes, sir."

"There's something in his face that seems familiar," mused the squire
absently. "He reminds me of somebody, though I can't recall who."

It was not long before the squire's memory was refreshed, and he
obtained clearer information respecting the young man, and the errand
which had brought him to Rossville. When that information came, it
was so far from pleasing that he would willingly have postponed it
indefinitely.

CHAPTER XXIX. MR. MORTON'S STORY

The planting-season was over. For a month Frank had worked
industriously, in conjunction with Jacob Carter. His father had sent
him directions so full and minute, that he was not often obliged to call
upon Farmer Maynard for advice. The old farmer proved to be very kind
and obliging. Jacob, too, was capable and faithful, so that the farm work
went on as well probably as if Mr. Frost had been at home.

One evening toward the middle of June, Frank walked out into the fields
wi