kin see him through my window,
an' he can't see me 'cause my room is dark."

"And does he carry anything with him?"

"Not a thing. He jes' goes out like he does daytimes, an' comes back
the same way."

Josie nodded her tousled red head, as if the answers pleased her.

"He's a very clever man, your grandfather," she remarked. "He can fool
not only his neighbors, but his own family. But you've more to tell me,
Ingua."

"How d'ye know, Josie?"

"Because all this is just the beginning. It is something else that has
been worrying you, dear."

CHAPTER XI
THE FATE OF NED JOSELYN

The child stared dreamily at the rushing water for several minutes.
Then she looked earnestly into Josie's face. Finally, with a sigh, she
said:

"I may as well go on an' finish it, I s'pose."

"To be sure," said Josie. "You haven't told me anything very important
yet."

"The important part's comin'," asserted Ingua, her tone gradually
assuming its former animation. "'Twas last winter on the Thursday
between Christmas an' New Year's. It was cold an' snowin' hard, an' it
gits dark early them days. Gran'dad an' me was eat'n' supper by
lamplight when there come a knock at the door. I jumped up an' opened
it an' there stood Ned Joselyn, in a big heavy coat that was loaded
with snow, an' kid gloves on, an' his one-eyed spectacle on his face.
He come in an' stood while I shut the door, an' Gran'dad glared at him
like he does when the devils gits him, and said: 'What--more?'

"'Sure thing,' says Ned. 'Noth'n' lasts forever.'

"'That's true,' says Gran'dad, holdin' himself in. Then he looks at me,
an' back to Ned, an' says: 'I can't see ye here. Where ye stoppin'? At
the Kenton house?'

"'Jes' fer to-night,' says Ned. 'It's more private than a hotel.'

"'Go home, then,' says Gran'dad. 'I'll come over, by-'n'-by.'

"Ned opened the door an' went out, sayin' noth'n' more. Gran'dad
finished his supper an' then sot by the stove an' smoked his pipe while
I washed the dishes. I wondered why he didn't go over an' see Ned, but
he sot there an' smoked till I went upstairs to bed. That was queer,
for I never knew him to smoke more'n one pipe o' tobacco at a time,
before, an' then mostly on Sundays. And I'd never seen his face so hard
an' cruel-lookin' as it were that night, and his eyes, seemed like they
were made of glass. I didn't undress, fer I knowed there'd be trouble
if he went over to Ned's house, and I made up my mind to keep watch o'