rning white as
marble.

"Mother!" he gasped, holding out a yellowed slip of paper. "Look! It's
the lost promissory note."

Mother and son looked at each other for a moment. Then Mrs. Duncan
began to laugh and cry together.

"Your father took that book with him when he went to pay the note,"
she said. "He intended to return it to Mr. Sinclair. I remember seeing
the gleam of the red binding in his hand as he went out of the gate.
He must have slipped the note into it and I suppose the book has never
been opened since. Oh, Ernest--do you think--will Jacob Patterson--"

"I don't know, Mother. I must see Mr. White about this. Don't be too
sanguine. This doesn't prove that the note Jacob Patterson found
wasn't a genuine note also, you know--that is, I don't think it would
serve as proof in law. We'll have to leave it to his sense of justice.
If he refuses to refund the money I'm afraid we can't compel him to do
so."

But Jacob Patterson did not any longer refuse belief to Mrs.
Patterson's story of the blotted note. He was a harsh, miserly man,
but he prided himself on his strict honesty; he had been fairly well
acquainted with his brother's business transactions, and knew that
George Duncan had given only one promissory note.

"I'll admit, ma'am, since the receipted note has turned up, that your
story about the blotted one must be true," he said surlily. "I'll pay
your money back. Nobody can ever say Jacob Patterson cheated. I took
what I believed to be my due. Since I'm convinced it wasn't I'll hand
every penny over. Though, mind you, you couldn't make me do it by law.
It's my honesty, ma'am, it's my honesty."

Since Jacob Patterson was so well satisfied with the fibre of his
honesty, neither Mrs. Duncan nor Ernest was disposed to quarrel with
it. Mr. White readily agreed to sell the old Duncan place back to
them, and by spring they were settled again in their beloved little
home. Danny and Frank were with them, of course.

"We can't be too good to them, Mother," said Ernest. "We really owe
all our happiness to them."

"Yes, but, Ernest, if you had not consented to take the homeless
little lads in their time of need this wouldn't have come about."

"I've been well rewarded, Mother," said Ernest quietly, "but, even if
nothing of the sort had happened, I would be glad that I did the best
I could for Frank and Danny. I'm ashamed to think that I was unwilling
to do it at first. If it hadn't been for what you said, I